


down the line

by Cygrus



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Road Trips, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7760968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cygrus/pseuds/Cygrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Golden Week road trip filled with memories and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	down the line

“I’m in love with you.”

It’s a chilly night in November. Makoto stands outside the door to his apartment, a cold wind drowning out the noise that comes from the small birthday party being held inside. He can vaguely hear Nagisa’s booming laughter, and he thinks he hears Rei say something following it. He wonders why he’s out here and not in there, celebrating his own twentieth. The sounds are gone before he can think about what kind of trouble his friends are getting into.

Next to him, leaning over the railing with an oddly relaxed smile, is Kisumi. His gaze is locked on Makoto, his eyes half-lidded, intense. Makoto feels a cold sweat break out on his back, but he can’t look away. Another wind blows past them, ruffling the pink waves atop Kisumi’s head. He hasn’t said another word.

There’s something caught in Makoto’s throat. He forces a cough out, then follows up on Kisumi’s statement, his voice straining. “Sorry… Sorry, what was that?”

He gives Kisumi the chance to take it back.

Kisumi does no such thing.

“I’m in love with you,” he says again. Makoto wonders if this is some kind of alcohol-induced fever dream.

The grip he has on the iron railing tightens. He looks away from Kisumi with a pounding heart, and he wishes Kisumi would look away too. He doesn’t. Makoto swallows thickly. “I don’t… Really understand--”

“Is there that much to understand?” Kisumi asks, a laugh leaving him in a white cloud of air. Then, his voice lowers, but he doesn’t stop watching Makoto. It’s like he’s taking note of every move Makoto makes. “I’m in love with you.”

At this point, Makoto understands that, and he almost thinks Kisumi to be shameless. He wants to know what brought this on-- There’s a lot of things he wants to know, actually. Why did Kisumi never admit that he’s gay? How long has he kept this a secret? And why Makoto, of all people? Has he given off that sort of impression? He still doesn’t look at Kisumi, but that doesn’t seem to deter him.

“You can hate me,” Kisumi tells him. His words make Makoto’s head jerk up out of shock. Their eyes meet, and Makoto wonders if Kisumi has even blinked this entire time. His gaze doesn’t waver a bit. “You can call me disgusting. Or you can curse me.”

“Kisumi--”

“If you want to hit me, you can do that too.”

“ _Kisumi_ , wait.” These words frighten Makoto, _especially_ coming from Kisumi. He’s never spoken like this before-- He uses pretty words, ones that leave him in fluttering tones and giggles, ones that make the people around him smile and laugh.

Makoto puts a hand to his forehead, and he notices that he’s awfully warm, despite how hellishly cold it is right now. He can’t think of what to say in return.

His discomfort doesn’t faze Kisumi. He hardly allows the following silence to last before he speaks again. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

Makoto recalls that Kisumi has always been this bold. He should have been used to it by now-- But something is still off.

Despite this bold front, Kisumi… still sounds scared. Makoto can barely catch it and has to strain his ears, but it’s there, hidden in the small trembles of Kisumi’s voice.

“So if you’ll accept me, I’d be really happy.”

Makoto feels tired. He thinks, ahh, lying down would be really nice right now. The alcohol Kisumi brought to the apartment is swimming in his stomach and his head. Some kind of dizziness sets in. He barely finds the courage to look at Kisumi again.

Kisumi still watches with sharp eyes, and Makoto thinks him to be brave, though he knows this is just foolishness. Still, Makoto finds Kisumi to be admirable, even in a moment like this.

“You want to be my boyfriend,” he mumbles. Kisumi nods, and Makoto feels his chest squeeze painfully. “Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Right. He’s already said that, hasn’t he?

Makoto doesn’t state the obvious, like how they’re both men-- That’s common in Japan now, if he remembers correctly. He doesn’t know for sure. It’s not something he’s ever had to worry about. Not until now. He’s thoroughly confused.

“Do you hate me?” Kisumi asks. Makoto notices how soft his prior bold voice has become. “It’s okay if you do--”

“I don’t,” Makoto interrupts, standing straight and taking a step back towards the door to his apartment, as if it’ll save him. “There’s… No way I could.”

“Because you’re Makoto,” Kisumi laughs. “Sorry for springing this on you.” Kisumi stands straight as well and turns to Makoto, taking a step closer to him. He smiles his familiar smile, and even in this situation, it makes Makoto feel comfortable. “Thanks for hearing me out. You can forget about it now.”

He moves to go back inside and return to the party, but Makoto’s hand on his wrist stops him. Their eyes meet again, Kisumi’s brows furrowing in confusion. His smile still remains.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and Makoto’s grip tightens.

He’s confused. Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s doing this to him-- Even when his parents gave him sips when he was younger, he was never good at holding it. Seems that’s still the case.

“I’ve never done this before,” he admits lamely. His cheeks flare up when Kisumi snorts, but he tries to shake off his embarrassment. “You love me?”

“...That’s right.” It’s not easy for Kisumi to say this, because his smile begins to waver. “I’m in love with you, Makoto.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure for a while now.”

Makoto thinks that he must really be thick-headed if he hasn’t noticed. That, or it’s just something he didn’t have the burden of thinking about. Kisumi has, though-- And it must have been tough. It’s a kind of bravery that Makoto doesn’t understand, but right there, he thinks it deserves an answer that will surely make Kisumi happy.

Swallowing back a lump, Makoto hesitates before he wraps his arms around Kisumi’s shoulders and draws him closer. They fit together nicely-- Kisumi is only a few centimeters shorter. He squirms in Makoto’s hold.

“Makoto?”

He has no idea what kind of expression Kisumi is wearing right now. He finds it easier when he’s not looking. He trembles, and he thinks that Kisumi is, too. The wind that whips around them prevents him from finding an answer.

“I’ll be your boyfriend,” he says, deciding to throw his rationality away. His head is still dizzy from the alcohol. Right now, he has no idea what he’s feeling. He’s cold. “I don’t know if I’ll be good, but…”

He trails off when Kisumi raises his arms to return the embrace. There’s a few beats of silence. Inside, Nagisa laughs out Haruka’s name, and some garbled words that neither can understand follows.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hit me?” Kisumi asks, his voice distant. “I wouldn’t blame you--”

“Why would I hit you--”

“Because this is obviously-- You’re not--” Kisumi stops, then laughs as his fingers curl up into the fabric of Makoto’s jacket. “No… I don’t know. You wouldn’t, would you?”

He seems confused, like this is the last answer he expected. It probably was.

He laughs again, and Makoto joins him this time, though he thinks that this laugh is different from Kisumi’s usual. They don’t pull away to look at each other. Makoto’s almost too afraid to-- He’s more comfortable with staring at the side of the neighboring apartment complex.

“Please treat me well,” Kisumi continues. “Please, um… Makoto?”

“Hm?”

“I’m… really happy. Like… really.”

Makoto hopes that he is, not noticing the hesitation in Kisumi’s words. Makoto is tired. He doesn’t want to question this anymore.

So, he nods, and turns his head until the pink strands of hair tickle his nose. He still smiles. He’s happy too.

He doesn’t know if it’s the same kind of happiness that Kisumi feels.

***

The whirr of a running engine keeps him awake and alert, the dark surrounding the vehicle not fazing him. Street lamps have only just begun to flicker off, signaling an approaching dawn. Makoto keeps both hands on the steering wheel and both eyes on the road.

In the passenger’s seat next to him sits a dozed off Kisumi. His bangs are held back by the clips he wore to bed the night before, and his head lolls off to one side. Drool slips from his parted lips and travels down his chin. Makoto fights the urge to reach over and wipe it off, unable to hold back a breath of laughter at the defenseless image.

Makoto considers them lucky to be out of Tokyo before the sun rises. The road that leads south of the city is almost barren, save for a few passing cars. It’s around seven in the morning when the sun begins to peek over the treetops. Makoto takes the opportunity to turn off the headlights. He yawns once into his hand, then returns to concentrating on the road. He’ll be able to relax more once Kisumi is awake.

The quiet is almost jarring. He’s used to the sounds of their apartment. The TV usually plays in the background, but neither of them ever pay too much attention to the news station it’s on. Kisumi prefers to spend his time in the kitchen these days, saying it’s therapeutic. Makoto isn’t exactly a chef, so he doesn’t really understand. Along with the occasional clangs of pots and pans knocking together, Makoto sometimes hears Kisumi humming, and he recognizes it as a song the Iwatobi Middle School’s choir once did a long time ago.

Somewhere along the way, he thinks he might have gotten off on the wrong path. This probably wasn’t what the gods had planned for him, and he feels like he should apologize to them for that. Maybe he should apologize again to his parents, too-- Though those troubles are in the past. They still cross his mind. That year had been hard for him.

It had been hard for Kisumi, too. Sometimes he forgets that, and sometimes he forgets that he was the cause.

The car jumps suddenly, the right front wheel passing over a pothole. If Makoto had been sleepy, he certainly wasn’t anymore. To his left, Kisumi jolts awake.

“Good morning,” Makoto greets, giving Kisumi a sideways glance. “Sorry about that. I didn’t see it. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Kisumi slurs, rubbing his eyes with his palms. He yawns and runs his tongue over his lips once, blinks a few times to adjust to the lighting, then yawns again. “Whose idea was it to leave at six in the morning?”

“Yours,” Makoto reminds him.

“Right. Sorry~.” He leans back in his seat and pulls his right knee up to hold it against his chest, his sandal left in the floorboard. He’s still busying himself with actually waking up, and he clicks his tongue once before speaking again. “Where are we?”

“We just barely left Tokyo--”

“Seriously?” Kisumi heaves out a sigh and rests his cheek on his knee, watching Makoto. A few seconds pass and he laughs. “You’re all stubbly.”

“Huh?” Makoto touches his chin, and sure enough, scratchy little hairs rub against the pads of his fingers. He frowns. “I forgot to shave before leaving… I’ll do it when we stop for breakfast.”

Kisumi hums, then reaches over to rub his own fingers on the barely there beard. “It’s fine,” he says. “You look handsome like this.”

The comment brings a smile to Makoto’s face, and he spares Kisumi another look. Light filters in through the rooftop’s window, hitting the top of Kisumi’s head perfectly. His hair and eyes glisten, and when he meets Makoto’s gaze, he bears a toothy grin, pearly white teeth against pink cheeks.

Makoto wonders if he’s getting too old for this kind of puppy-dog love.

***

It’s a few months after Kisumi’s confession that he moves into Makoto’s apartment. He doesn’t bring much with him-- A few duffel bags and cardboard boxes. For a while, those sit in one corner of the open room, and he spreads himself out on the hardwood floors with a happy sigh. It isn’t until Makoto tells him to start unpacking that he begrudgingly gets up.

“I’ll work faster with some motivation,” he tells Makoto, a sly grin stretching out on his lips.

They haven’t kissed a lot yet, usually only in passing. After a date, they’d part ways, but only after Kisumi initiated the kiss. On Makoto’s end, it’s shy and unsure, and he thinks Kisumi realized that somewhere along the way. There came a point where Kisumi stopped kissing him. Makoto thought he was lucky to be dating someone who understood him like that, but all the same, he thought it felt lonely for the both of them.

Makoto stares down at Kisumi, unimpressed. Kisumi laughs and lifts a finger to his lips, as if Makoto needs directions.

“I know what you mean, geez,” Makoto whines, sighing as he sets the cardboard box in his hands aside.

Leaning down, he presses his mouth against Kisumi’s, and he intends for it be chaste, quick. Kisumi’s plans are different, though, as his arms are thrown around Makoto’s neck in an instant, pulling him onto the floor with a thud.

When Kisumi breaks the kiss, he laughs and pinches Makoto’s cheek. “Don’t look so surprised~.”

“How could I not be?” Makoto pouts and pulls away from the prodding fingers with a huff, but he still isn’t allowed to escape Kisumi’s hold. He gives in, laying between Kisumi’s legs and sighing. “We need to put your things away--”

“Let me celebrate,” Kisumi interrupts, closing his eyes as he goes in for another kiss.

He’s more skilled than Makoto-- It’s like instinct that he knows which way to tilt his head, knows where to breathe, and knows how to coax Makoto’s mouth open so his tongue can slip inside. Makoto tenses.

“Kisumi--”

“Is it bad?”

It isn’t, and for Makoto, that’s scary. He stays silent and lowers his gaze, heart hammering against his chest.

Kisumi’s thumb trails at the corner of Makoto’s mouth, eyes asking, _‘Can I?’_

Just as he always does, Makoto gives in and lets the warm tongue slide between his parted lips and tangle with his own. It’s barely March, but Kisumi’s body is warm like a flickering candle.

Makoto pulls back with a weak gasp, a trail of saliva settling on his chin. He stares at Kisumi, who looks as if he’s just been given the universe and more. When Kisumi grins up at him with flushed cheeks, Makoto feels his heart stutter.

“I’ll make dinner tonight,” Kisumi says, sitting up and scooting away from Makoto. “To celebrate.”

As the sun sets and the city noises begin to die off by bits and pieces, Makoto sits under the kotatsu, watching Kisumi who stands at the stove. He looks like he knows what he’s doing-- like this is something he’s been doing his entire life. Makoto thinks himself to be a useless adult, at least compared to his lover.

The meal is warm and fills his stomach. After he finishes, he nudges Kisumi’s ankle with his toe and smiles. “Thank you. You didn’t tell me you were good at cooking.”

Kisumi tries to shrug off the compliment, but his grin betrays him. “Well, I had to take care of Hayato a lot on my own. You get to be good at these kinds of things along the way. Aren’t I just the best big brother?”

“I’m pretty good too,” Makoto tries to brag, laughing when Kisumi does.

Their first night living together, they fall asleep to the lull of a news broadcast that says something about the temperature being higher the next day. When Makoto wakes to dirty dishes, he can’t complain, because the first thing he sees that morning is Kisumi sleeping beside him.

He wonders if this should feel different. He’s slept next to Haruka many times before, and not just him. There’s been Rei, Nagisa, Rin… How he feels waking up next to them feels no different from this. He isn’t sure what he should have expected.

Guilt settles in the pit of his stomach, and he wants to apologize to Kisumi. He’s trying, he really is. He tries to reason with himself that maybe he’s still too young to really understand how love should feel.

He doesn’t know.

Eventually, he gets up and opens his blinds, warm sunlight pooling in through the windows and brightening his apartment. The harsh light makes Kisumi stir, and when his eyes blink open, the first thing he does is smile at Makoto. It’s big, warm, and Makoto can’t help but return it.

He thinks that this feeling is no different, but he can’t say he’s ever found any of his friends quite so beautiful before.

***

The town they stop in is quaint, and the family diner is no different. Only a few other people sit inside, and the most noise they can hear comes from the kitchen. Makoto wrestles with a map, and Kisumi watches him with an amused smile as he leans against the table with his chin in his palm.

“Why not just use your phone?” he asks, as if it’s the most obvious solution, which it is. Makoto flushes when he remembers that it’s even an option.

“I’m used to planes taking me back to Iwatobi.” Folding the paper map back up, Makoto shyly returns Kisumi’s smile before he looks out the window next to their table. He reaches up to scratch at his still stubbly chin. “Did we tell my parents when we’d be there exactly?”

Kisumi mulls over the question. “I don’t think so,” he murmurs, foot nudging at Makoto’s under the table. “What else did you want to do? Didn’t you say something about stopping in Kyoto for a day or two?”

Makoto returns the nudge and nods. “I want to go to an onsen,” he admits, scratching at his stubble again. He really wants to shave. “I can’t remember the last time I went… High school?”

Kisumi whistles then laughs. “If we take too long getting there, your mom will scold us, you know.” He pauses. “Your mom isn’t really the scary one, though… If anyone, Ran is, right?”

“You think my little sister is scary?” Makoto snorts, looking up when two plates of food arrive at their table. He thanks the waitress, then looks back to Kisumi. “Ran only scolds us because she cares.”

“Of course, of course~.” Kisumi takes a bite of his food, then digs in his pocket for his phone. Tapping the screen a few times, he smiles. “Nagisa told us to have fun on our trip. He said we should all go out for drinks soon.”

“He’s so carefree,” Makoto hums, watching Kisumi send a quick reply. “Maybe if we’re home before the holidays are over?”

Nodding, Kisumi finishes his message, then sets his phone aside so he can focus better on his breakfast. “That’d be fun-- Ah, Haru can come too~.”

“Haru isn’t a big drinker, though.”

“He needs to let loose once in a while.”

“Kisumi…”

Their banter continues on like that as they enjoy their meal together. Kisumi is the first to quiet down, though, and he sets his fork down on an empty plate. He stares outside, and though he still wears a smile, there’s something distant about the look in his eyes. Makoto watches him for a bit, feeling some sort of uneasiness.

“Kisumi,” he calls after a minute passes, leaning across the table to get a little closer. Kisumi turns to look at him and grins.

“People will stare if we act like this~.”

“Isn’t that okay?” Makoto steals a peck, and Kisumi giggles against his lips.

“What’s with you?” he asks as he gently pushes Makoto’s face away. “You’re never like this--” He pauses, and Makoto sees his smile falter for a split second. “I would know, really.”

Makoto leans back in his chair, scratching his chin again. “Sorry,” he says, though he isn’t really. “I just thought… You look beautiful.”

“Uh--” The red that fills Kisumi’s cheeks is sublime, and he can’t hold back his smile. Shyly, he looks away. “ _Really_ , what’s with you?”

Laughing, Makoto feels a warmth creeping up his neck as embarrassment begins to set in. He honestly has no idea what he was on about-- It was just something he had wanted to say. “Sorry. I don’t know either--”

“I’m getting too old for those kinds of compliments,” Kisumi states, reaching his hand across the table so his fingers can slip around Makoto’s wrist. “And you’ll start sounding like a perverted old man if you keep them up.”

“We’re not _that_ old yet.”

“It’s just a warning~.”

***

It’s one spring day that Kisumi returns to the apartment with two clay pots in his arms and packets of seeds in his bag. He marches in and immediately heads for one of the windows, passing by Makoto without a word. Makoto watches him with furrowed brows.

“Kisumi?”

“I read about this in a magazine,” Kisumi says, and it isn’t much of an explanation, but he says it in a way that Makoto feels he should accept whatever is about to happen. “I want to try it out.”

Sitting quietly, he waits a few moments before crawling over to where Kisumi sits himself. He’s already packing soil into the pots. Makoto spots the rolled up magazine sticking out of Kisumi’s bag and he takes it, flipping to a bookmarked page.

“A windowsill garden?” It’s not exactly anything _special_.

“I thought it would brighten things up.” Kisumi brushes off his hands on his pants and grins at Makoto. “It’s nice, right? I think I can make it work well.”

Makoto hums, then returns the smile and nods. It is pretty nice, really. “I’ll help take care of it,” he offers. Kisumi’s smile falls. “What’s kind of reaction is that?!”

“No, nothing, just…” He purses his lips, then laughs as he lifts a hand to pat Makoto’s cheek. “Nope, it’s nothing. I’m glad you’ll help me out.” He says that, then plants a kiss on the cheek that he didn’t leave specks of dirt on. “It’s our own project. I’m happy.”

Makoto juts his lower lip out, but still leans into the peck Kisumi gives him. He returns to looking at the magazine, reading over the instructions a few times as Kisumi begins to plant seeds into the soil.

“You know,” Makoto starts, wearing a lopsided smile when Kisumi looks to him, “your interests are pretty varied, aren’t they?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, from basketball to flowers… It seems like a pretty big jump, right?” He pauses and leans his head back in thought. “Then again, are swimming and video games really related…”

Kisumi laughs as he stands, going to fill a glass with water. “It’s good to have a little variety~. And besides, I’ve always liked gardening.”

It’s a bit of a surprise. As Kisumi returns to kneel down in front of the pots, Makoto tilts his head to the side. “You have?” The more you know, he supposes. Living with someone can really reveal a lot of new things.

Kisumi nods, pouring a bit of water into one of the pots. “My mom taught me how to do it, and when her and Dad were gone, Hayato and I would tend to the garden together. He looked so cute in his sunhat~.”

“I bet.” Makoto thinks back to Ran and Ren helping their mother in the garden on warm spring days. It’s a fond memory. The twins were always so happy when the flowers began to bloom.

In the weeks that follow the planting of those seeds, a few more small pots join the original two on the windowsill, and Makoto almost has to scold Kisumi for bringing in too many. He doesn’t, though, because he likes to watch Kisumi admire the blossoming flowers.

“They’re so pretty,” Kisumi says one day, delicately touching a pink petal and smoothing his finger over it.

Makoto almost agrees, but stops himself halfway, noticing there’s something wrong with this picture. This isn’t Kisumi’s usual smile-- It’s far-off, lonely. For a few seconds, neither speak.

Finally, Kisumi murmurs to himself, “I want to show this to Hayato.”

***

After breakfast, they leave their car parked in front of the family diner, deciding to go on a short walk before hitting the road again. No one in this town knows them, and though Makoto feels the urge to reach out and grab Kisumi’s hand, he doesn’t. They don’t want to disturb the peace.

“It’s so warm today,” Makoto says as they walk along a pathway in a small park. A few kids romp around on the playground and a soccer ball is kicked into their path. Makoto sends it back to the group of children when they call out for it. “Do you think it’ll get colder later on tonight?”

“It might.” Pausing in his stride, Kisumi tips the bill of his baseball cap up and squints at the blindingly blue sky above them. “Are we going to make it to a hotel before tonight?”

Makoto tenses when he realizes he forgot about ever booking a room. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “Ah… We could camp out instead?”

“Seriously?” Kisumi laughs as he nudges Makoto with his elbow. “That’s coming from you? Don’t you remember last summer when you came with me and my boys to our training camp? The story that first year told made you cling to me the entire night--”

“I’ve changed since then!” Makoto interrupts, flushing at Kisumi’s unsure look. It was a memory he had so diligently repressed, too… “If there’s no ghost stories, camping is just fine--”

“Rejected~.”

“It’s too hot for this kind of teasing…”

Kisumi giggles and walks a few steps ahead, then stops and coos. He motions for Makoto to follow him, then jogs forward until he’s in front of a flower bed that’s surrounded by carefully stacked red bricks. He kneels down with a big smile.

“Looks like a school project.”

“That brings back memories,” Makoto laughs, standing behind him. “The flowers look like they’re blooming nicely-- The kids must be proud.”

“They should be.” Reaching into his pocket, Kisumi brings out his phone and snaps a few pictures. “I wonder if Haru is taking good care of the garden--”

“We haven’t even been gone a day.”

“That’s true~.”

Makoto watches Kisumi switch to his Instagram app, already posting the photos for his friends to see, and Makoto thinks that he should take some pictures of his own.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, he opens the camera and laughs when Kisumi jumps at the sudden sound of the snapshot. He turns wide eyes on Makoto, then snorts as he tries to cover his face with one hand. It isn’t successful, of course, and Makoto continues with the tirade of photos.

“What are you even doing?” Kisumi asks through his laughter, turning his head away as Makoto gets closer.

“Taking pictures of--”

“I got that!” A hand shoots out to cover the phone’s camera. He knits his brows together in mock frustration. “What do you even need these for? You see me everyday~.”

“For when I can’t see you?”

“Gross!” He snatches Makoto’s phone away, ignoring any protests, and flips through the pictures. “They’re all blurry,” he comments. “You’d make an awful photographer.”

“Good thing I’m a swimmer then.” Makoto sits beside Kisumi and leans against his shoulder. “You’re so mean, though--” He’s cut off by his phone’s camera shutter. “Did you just take a picture of us?”

“I did.”

“Geez, you could at least warn me…”

“It’s payback~.”

Kisumi grins and returns the phone to Makoto’s hand, then proceeds to flip through his own photos of the flowers. Makoto watches them go past with each swipe of Kisumi’s thumb, enjoying the breeze that blows past them, a nice change from the sweltering sunlight.

Then, a ping sounds from Kisumi’s phone. Looking at the notification, Kisumi’s lips curl up into an amused smile. Makoto raises a brow. “What is it?”

“Haru told us to stop playing around and get to Iwatobi already--” Another ping. “Now he’s saying that your mom will scold us if we don’t hurry.”

“He isn’t wrong--”

“It’s so nice here, though.” Kisumi pockets his phone and leans against Makoto, breathing out a content sigh. “We have the right to relax every once in a while~.”

Slipping an arm around Kisumi’s shoulders, Makoto pulls him closer and leans his cheek against the top of Kisumi’s head, resisting the urge to nuzzle into the soft hair. He hums his agreement and closes his eyes, silently wondering if people are watching them.

He smiles to himself and thinks that it’s okay if they are.

Kisumi’s phone pings again, but he doesn’t reach for it this time. His body is relaxed against Makoto’s, and for just a bit, they sit there and enjoy the quiet bliss.

***

It’s mid-June, and that’s why they turn the AC in their apartment on. It sends cool blasts of air throughout the room to combat the heat, but it does nothing to help the beads of sweat that trail down Makoto’s body.

Kisumi is skilled for his age, and Makoto doesn’t ask why, because he probably doesn’t want to know the answer. He just goes along with it, shivering at each light touch that drifts over his exposed abdomen, each lick that’s given to his inner thighs.

His eyes are barely adjusted to the dark, but he can see Kisumi perfectly. His mouth is busy with leaving bruises, but his gaze rests upon Makoto with a look that sends chills through his veins. He tilts his head back and breathes out a moan, threading his fingers into Kisumi’s hair. Kisumi accepts this as encouragement and slides his tongue along Makoto’s cock before taking him into his mouth.

Between the vulgar sounds that leave Kisumi’s lips and the soft moans, Makoto quietly calls his names with strained vocals. Kisumi hums around him and bobs his head down, then, as if to torture Makoto, pulls away and leans up. He wipes his swollen lips on the back of his hand, then presses his mouth against Makoto’s, fondling his cock and rubbing his finger against the leaking slit.

Makoto feels as if he can’t keep up. He pulls back for a short gasp of air, and he hears Kisumi breathe out a laugh. There’s no time to be embarrassed, though, as Kisumi’s arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer. He can feel Kisumi’s smile on his throat.

“Touch me too,” Kisumi mouths, pressing his body firmly against Makoto’s. “Hurry--”

Makoto trembles when he feels Kisumi’s cock rub against his own. His hands fumble for a moment, and he feels dizzy, but his fingers manage to find their way to Kisumi’s hips and dig into the skin. Kisumi twitches and nips at Makoto’s neck.

Then, his hips roll forward, he moans out Makoto’s name, and something inside of Makoto stirs. The hands on Kisumi move to circle around his waist, and he’s thrown against and pressed into the futon moments later. He stares up at Makoto with a mixture of surprise and desire, and then he smiles and lifts his hands to cup Makoto’s face.

“You look so handsome,” he murmurs, smoothing his thumb over Makoto’s lower lip. “How lucky am I?”

Makoto’s heartbeat stutters and he feels short of breath. He returns Kisumi’s smile, glad that he’s happy, then leans down to capture his mouth in another kiss. Kisumi eagerly accepts it, his arms wrapping around Makoto’s back. His fingers play at each groove of Makoto’s spine.

When Makoto breaks the kiss, though, Kisumi asks in a low voice, “Are you sure you want to?”

Makoto doesn’t know what kind of face he makes, but it must not be good, as Kisumi seems to waver. They’re too far gone to feel any doubt, but the question makes Makoto hide his face in Kisumi’s neck. His heart is hammering, but Kisumi’s is too.

There’s a moment of hesitation where everything around them feels still. “I’m sure,” Makoto finally answers. “We’re dating, aren’t we?”

“We are, but…” Kisumi trails off. Makoto can feel how Kisumi’s hands have begun to slightly tremble.

He doesn’t have the courage to lift his head, so he slides a hand down Kisumi’s body, savoring the feeling of goosebumps that decorate Kisumi’s skin. Carefully, he prods a finger around Kisumi’s entrance, and it’s then that Makoto realizes that this wasn’t as spontaneous as it had seemed.

“Did you--”

“Yeah,” Kisumi breathes, a hand tangling into Makoto’s hair. “I did, so you can--”

Makoto stops listening and instead lets his finger slip in, a second following shortly. He slowly curls them. A short gasp leaves Kisumi, and Makoto wishes he could see his face, but Kisumi’s hand on the back of his neck keeps him from lifting his head. All he can feel is Kisumi’s warmth.

He keeps on like that until he has Kisumi begging for something more, and he obliges. His free hand fumbles for the box of condoms and bottle of lube they have somewhere nearby, and he sits up, holding Kisumi’s gaze as he prepares himself. Kisumi lifts one hand to caress Makoto’s side.

Then, he holds Kisumi’s thighs and spreads him open, and with his face hidden in the crook of Kisumi’s neck, he presses inside with a low, quiet groan.

It takes a minute for him to recompose himself. Kisumi trembles underneath him and curls his fingers tighter into Makoto’s hair, but he doesn’t speak. All he does is breathe slowly.

“Makoto,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, “ _Please_ \--”

The small plead makes Makoto’s hips snap forward, Kisumi makes a sound like no other, and it’s from there that they lose themselves in each other.

Kisumi holds onto Makoto with piercing nails and and curled toes. His head tilts back with each movement Makoto makes, and he spreads his legs wider, whimpering out pleas of _‘faster’_ and _‘more.’_ Makoto listens to each word, and he’s able to lean up when Kisumi loses the strength in his arms and they fall to his sides, clutching at the blanket underneath.

It’s a look Makoto has never seen before-- Parted lips and flushed cheeks and his eyes open for mere moments before they squeeze shut again with another roll of Makoto’s hips. Makoto feels himself move without thinking, mesmerized by each twitch and gasp and cry. When Kisumi notices that Makoto is staring, he manages a smile.

And Makoto kisses that smile away, letting Kisumi bite and suck on his lower lip, letting their breathing intermingle, letting their limbs hold each other until they’re not sure who is who anymore. Kisumi, through each and every sound that leaves him, holds Makoto’s gaze.

“I love you,” he says.

Tears sting the back of Makoto’s eyes, and he tries to hide the fact by burying his face into Kisumi’s shoulder. He draws in a trembling breath, thrusts his hips forward, feels Kisumi arch his back up.

“I love you,” he says again.

Makoto wishes he would stop, but he doesn’t. He repeats it, over and over and over again, until the words are burned into Makoto’s mind, tearing away at the part of him that knows that this isn’t fair.

Kisumi’s body jolts again and lets out one last moan for the night, and he goes limp right after, but he doesn’t stop Makoto from finishing himself off.

He pulls away from Kisumi, exhausted. Kisumi’s eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls slowly. He wears a content smile.

Lying down next to him, Makoto stares up at the ceiling and tries to catch his breath. The whirr of the AC is the only noise inside the apartment, and it’s troubling. Kisumi doesn’t speak, instead rolling onto his side so he can face Makoto. It takes a moment for Makoto to do the same.

Kisumi stares at him with half-lidded eyes, then reaches a hand over to brush his fingers against Makoto’s cheek. He laughs softly, but it’s not as happy as it should be. “We managed, huh…”

“Mmhm…”

Kisumi falls silent again. Makoto waits for something more, his chest tight. In the midst of the quiet, his eyes begin to slip closed, and he’s almost gone when Kisumi speaks again.

“Makoto,” he calls, his hand moving to Makoto’s chest. Makoto barely manages to open his eyes, but what he sees in Kisumi’s distant smile steals his breath away. “I love you.”

Again, tears begin to prick at Makoto’s eyes, and his throat begins to ache. He parts his lips, tries to say the same thing in return, but they’re both met with a terrible silence.

Kisumi’s smile doesn’t falter. “I love you,” he says again, quieter this time. “Makoto.” He then rolls over, his back facing Makoto. “Sleep well. Thank you.”

Guilt hits Makoto like a slap across the face. The tears that rim his eyes spill over and slowly travel down his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He swallows down the ache, but it doesn’t disappear, and as if he can make up for what he’s lacking, he wraps his arms around Kisumi from behind.

An apology rests on the tip of his tongue, but it never comes to light. He thinks himself a coward.

Together, in a mess of exhaustion and unspoken truths, they fall asleep like that.

In the morning, everything returns to normal.

***

Everything around them is black, shrouded in a darkness that’s illuminated only by a sky full of stars and the flashlight on Kisumi’s phone. They lay together in the back of the car, the seats folded down to make enough room for their large builds. A thin blanket covers them, and Kisumi stares up through the window atop the roof of the car.

They’re parked at the side of the road, because Kisumi had suggested they stop driving before it got too dark out. He doesn’t want Makoto driving while he’s tired, either, and having woken up at four that morning definitely didn’t help the situation.

“Is this legal?” he wonders aloud, and Makoto shrugs.

“Who knows…”

There’s a silence that’s filled in by the sounds of the surrounding forests. Wind rustles the tree leaves, and crickets chirp. Kisumi looks over to Makoto with a brow quirked up.

“Are you scared?”

“I’m not,” Makoto mutters, weakly glaring at Kisumi. “You’re here, so there’s no reason to be.”

“But what if a spirit--”

“Please don’t start.”

Kisumi barks out a laugh and puts his arms behind his head. “You’re the same as ever, Makoto~.”

“I’m trying, okay?”

“Ohh, I’m so proud of you~.”

Makoto huffs at the blatant teasing, but it’s something he’s grown used to by now. Looking back to the sky, he hums and tries to remember back to when Rei educated them in the locations of different constellations. His mind is clouded, though, so he gives up.

“You should be sleeping,” Kisumi says after a few minutes of silence. “We want to get to Kyoto early in the day, don’t we?”

“Yeah… But this is fun, right?”

“It is-- But you’re tired, aren’t you?”

Makoto shrugs and rolls onto his side so he can face Kisumi. “No, not really… I’m pretty awake, actually.”

A little smile appears on Kisumi’s lips, and he adjusts himself so he can face Makoto, but then he winces and has to pause for a second. Makoto frowns and sits himself up on his elbow.

“Is your knee hurting?”

“A little,” Kisumi admits, reaching under the blanket so he can gently massage it. “But it’s just because it’s a little cold out tonight. You know how it gets.”

Makoto nods, a bit unsure, then lays his head back down on the pillows they set up. He opens his arms, and Kisumi laughs as he wiggles over to accept the offered embrace. His arms slide around Makoto’s waist and he bumps their foreheads together.

“Wow,” he murmurs, sliding his foot up and down Makoto’s leg, “Your legs are hairy--”

“Of course they are.”

“And so is your face.” Kisumi lifts a hand to rub at the stubble Makoto had already shaved off once earlier. “You’re gonna be one of those old men with an amazing beard.”

Makoto pouts, but closes his eyes and lets Kisumi play with the light beard. “It’s _just_ stubble--”

“I hardly ever get to see it, though.”

Pursing his lips, Makoto nuzzles against Kisumi’s palm. “I don’t want to be a bearded old man.”

“What kind of old man do you think I’ll be?” Kisumi asks playfully. “Not to say I’m not already old, but-- I bet I’ll turn into a really short grandpa.”

“We’re thirty years too early to be thinking about that,” Makoto croons, cracking one eye open to see Kisumi’s toothy grin. “Your birthday is soon, right?”

He jumps when Kisumi kicks his ankle, both eyes popping open.

“What was that for?!”

“You’re supposed to remember that by now,” Kisumi tells him with a hint of annoyance. “But, yes-- In a few weeks. Is it that hard to remember?” He closes his eyes and sighs. “I tell you every year, it’s not long after Golden Week…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Makoto murmurs, rubbing Kisumi’s back. “You know how it is when you get older… Your mind starts to go--”

“And _I’m_ the one who’s thirty years too early?”

Makoto grins, then pecks Kisumi’s lips and changes the subject. “We’ll stay in Kyoto tomorrow, and then we’ll head to Iwatobi, okay?” His fingers play at a few stands of Kisumi’s hair. “My parents asked why we didn’t just fly to Iwatobi like we do every year…”

“I’m wondering the same.”

“I’m telling you, it’s more fun this way.” He doesn’t fight back when Kisumi pinches his cheek, and he keeps talking through slurred words. “These holidays are meant for fun, aren’t they?”

“So you’re saying that driving for hours with only me as your company is fun?” Kisumi smiles. “Honestly, I’m flattered. And here I thought you’d get tired of me along the way.”

As if that could ever happen, Makoto thinks.

He watches Kisumi shift so he can lay on his back again. His gaze is focused on the sky, and he begins to slowly hum a tune. Makoto listens to him, slipping in and out of consciousness. He doesn’t fully fall asleep yet, and his hand wanders over to rest upon Kisumi’s stomach, playing with the hem of his shirt.

Then, his fingers slip under the fabric, enjoying the warmth that radiates from Kisumi’s skin. He smiles to himself, then jolts when Kisumi’s hand covers his own.

“Kisu--”

“What are you thinking about doing?” Kisumi asks with narrowed eyes. “I told you to sleep.”

It wasn’t like Makoto was really thinking of anything-- His body just kind of moved on its own, and it does the same again as he sits up. He smiles down at Kisumi, then moves to kiss him, prompting his lips open with a swipe of his tongue. Kisumi grunts and weakly shoves a hand against Makoto’s shoulder as if to stop him, but ends up giving in.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he mutters when Makoto pulls away to start mouthing at his neck instead, “I asked you, what are you thinking about doing, huh? It’s late, you know-- And this is a _rental_ car.”

Makoto pays him no mind, lazily leaving a nice red mark on Kisumi’s skin. “Mmhmm…”

“Makoto…” Kisumi sighs and tilts his chin up, letting Makoto lick and bite to his heart’s content. “Remember when you were reasonable? Back in the old days? I can’t keep up with your youthful vigor anymore.”

Makoto’s laugh is muffled by Kisumi’s neck, and he lifts his head with a brow raised. “Really? _You’re_ saying that?”

“I am,” Kisumi huffs. Silent, they stare at each other for a few passing moments, and then Kisumi laughs and puts a hand to Makoto’s face. “Stop staring at me~. You look so hungry, Makoto~. What a player, a pervert, a tease~.”

Listening to the names be listed off one by one, Makoto rolls his eyes, then kisses the palm that blocks his view. “So can I or not?”

Kisumi hums as if he actually has to think about it, then shrugs his shoulders. “I still think you should sleep, but…” His arms circle around Makoto’s shoulders and pull him closer. “You just look _so_ handsome right now that I just can’t resist.” He pecks Makoto’s lips. “But you’re the one cleaning up whatever mess we make.”

“Yes, yes.”

They share a smile, and then the distance between them is closed, the stars above their heads forgotten as their focuses shift to only each other.

***

Holiday decorations and twinkling lights line the streets of Tokyo, and there are light flurries here and there, but nothing too heavy yet. The last Christmas of their university lives approaches, and Makoto wonders how it’s even possible that so much time has passed.

Two years have passed since the night Kisumi confessed to him and they started their life together. It’s been relatively calm, and Makoto has enjoyed it. He thinks Kisumi has too.

At least twice a week, Kisumi tells Makoto that he loves him. Each time, Makoto musters up a smile and nods, then returns to whatever he was doing prior to the statement. There’s some kind of rush of emotions that hit him each time-- Anxiety and guilt and happiness all mixed together to form some kind of nameless monster that tells him that this isn’t how it should be.

Kisumi accepts his weak responses, though, and Makoto doesn’t understand that. He wonders why Kisumi doesn’t ask questions or request that Makoto says it in return-- He wonders, but he also doesn’t wish for that. He’s glad that Kisumi leaves it there to gather dust.

What would his answer even be? The fact that he doesn’t know scares him.

Two years, Makoto reminds himself. It’s been two years, and somehow, Kisumi has stuck around without ever being told that he’s loved, not even once.

Makoto doesn’t know what it means to be in love. He doesn’t know what the signs are, or how to truly figure this complex mess out. He always thought there would be some kind of _‘A-ha!’_ moment, but he has yet to experience anything like that. He almost wants to ask Kisumi what his moment was, but that’d make his lies as clear as day.

He thinks of his friends at the university, and how they seem to be so sure of their feelings already. Some even plan on settling down early, starting families, and growing old with the one they love.

That’s not something he’s sure he can do with Kisumi, though. He’s happy when they’re together, when they kiss, when they hold hands on a cold winter night. He thinks Kisumi is beautiful, and his smile is so radiant that it makes Makoto’s heart flutter.

He wants to think that’s what love is, but then he wonders, isn’t that something he’d feel regardless of who he’s dating? Is he just caught up in the high of it all?

If Kisumi were anyone else, would he still feel the same?

There’s no way to answer that question, and he knows he shouldn’t rush this, but he wants to give Kisumi something in return. He wants to show Kisumi that he does take this seriously, that he takes _Kisumi_ seriously, whatever his feelings may or may not be.

“I’ll be going home for Christmas and New Years,” he states one night as they watch a game show together.

Kisumi nods, his chin in his palm and his gaze fixed on the TV, though he seems disinterested. His fingers drum against the top of the kotatsu. “Like you do every year.”

“Yeah…” Trailing off, Makoto purses his lips, then slides his hand over to grab Kisumi’s. This gets his attention, as he looks away from the TV with a hint of surprise in his eyes. Makoto feels a twinge of guilt that he’s learned to suppress, and smiles. “I want you to come with me this time.”

The offer seems to catch Kisumi off-guard, as the surprise turns into shock. He’s silent for a few beats. “Oh,” he finally says. “You do? What for?”

“To introduce you. To my family.”

“Oh.”

Another silence follows, and Makoto slowly draws his hand back, hiding it in his lap as he looks down. “No good?”

“It’s not that--” Kisumi looks away as well and worries his lower lip, trying to gather his thoughts. “It’s just… Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Makoto answers quickly. “We’ve been dating for over two years now, right? But my family doesn’t even know you-- Um, if you’re worried about them not liking you, don’t. My parents are really kind people, and Ran and Ren-- My siblings-- They would love you.”

He speaks quickly, desperate to convince Kisumi to go with him, though he knows it’s only for his own personal, selfish reasons. Maybe what he wants is to make himself look good for Kisumi, maybe he wants to convince himself.

Kisumi listens with a blank expression, but then he snorts. “I’ll go,” he agrees. Makoto immediately relaxes. “But… Are you not worried?”

“Worried?”

“Because…” Kisumi doesn’t finish his thought. He looks away again and rubs the back of his neck, brows knitted together. “No. No, it’s nothing.”

Makoto never knows what to make of this side of Kisumi. He’s more secretive than he ever let on, and Makoto _wants_ to know more, _wants_ to see those deep crevices in Kisumi that never see the light of day, but the last thing he wants to do is push him.

So, instead, he smiles and nods and accepts this form of a silent treatment. He reaches for Kisumi’s hand again and gives a gentle squeeze.

“I’m glad,” he says as their fingers lace together. “Ah, but it doesn’t have to just be my family-- We can go see yours, too--”

“We can’t.”

“Huh?”

He can feel how Kisumi has tensed up. The grip Kisumi has on Makoto’s hand tightens, and he smiles weakly at Makoto. “We can’t,” he repeats. “My family won’t let me back into that house.”

Makoto doesn’t understand, but he knows something is horribly off. “Why?”

There’s no immediate answer from Kisumi. He slips his hand away and looks out the window where snow has begun to drift down. Makoto patiently waits, and Kisumi speaks again.

“Before I moved to Tokyo,” he starts slowly, “I told my parents that I’m gay. They didn’t take it well and disowned me. I’m not welcome there anymore.” He pauses, a smile slipping onto his lips. “It’s been around three years since I last spoke to them.”

All Makoto can do is listen, his stomach curling by the end. Kisumi tells it with such ease, as if it were something that just couldn’t be helped, as if he doesn’t even miss the people who raised him.

Makoto thinks back on their two years together, and reality seems to hit him all at once. Sure enough, he hasn’t heard Kisumi mention his parents once, not even in passing. There’s been no phone calls, no texts, no letters-- And in those two years, Kisumi never once returned to Iwatobi.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Makoto stares at his lover, but he doesn’t say anything, and he hates himself for that. This is supposed to be the scene where he comforts Kisumi, apologizes for never noticing, but the smiling man before him doesn’t even give him the opportunity to do anything like that.

When Kisumi notices Makoto’s helpless expression, he breathes out a laugh. “What’s with that look?” he asks, reaching over to brush his fingers against Makoto’s cheek. “Don’t think of me as someone pitiful-- I was prepared for that outcome, so I’m not even bothered, okay? Don’t let it bother you either.”

Makoto wishes it didn’t, but it does, and it’s awful. He feels like shaking Kisumi and telling him to stop acting as if this situation is alright. The lack of remorse in his tone, in his eyes, almost makes Makoto ask Kisumi if he’s really a human being.

He doesn’t, of course. He knows he’s not ready to shoulder the responsibility of whatever answer Kisumi gives. A painful ache in his throat burdens him, but he swallows it down and asks the only other question that’s on his mind.

“And what about Hayato-kun?”

It’s only then that Kisumi’s smile falls. He pulls his hand away from Makoto’s cheek. There’s a stagnant silence as they stare one another down. The name of that little boy triggered something--

And then, Kisumi looks back to the TV and unmutes it, returning to watching as if Makoto hadn’t just asked him a question. The air around him has shifted, and his eyes don’t truly focus on the screen in front of him.

With the passing of that subtle warning, Makoto decides to not ask anymore.

***

Over the music that plays on the radio and the wind that blows past the open car window, a phone pings with a new message. Makoto hears it, but Kisumi doesn’t seem to, as he’s too busy watching the green scenery of trees go by with a cigarette to his lips. The smoke disappears as the car moves, and Kisumi blows out a long trail of it.

It’s not like he does it very often, so Makoto doesn’t complain, but he wonders if Kisumi _really_ has to have to one in the rental car. He can’t very well say anything, though-- _He’s_ the one who passed out without cleaning up after one round of sex the night before.

When he woke that morning, quite a bit later than they had originally planned, Kisumi was already dressed and sitting in the passenger seat, phone in hand. Makoto immediately began to apologize, then began to awkwardly dress himself, bumping his head against the ceiling of the car one too many times. Kisumi watched with an amused look, but that look was gone now, replaced with one of disinterest.

“Are you angry?” Makoto asks, slowing as they head down a steep hill. “I’m sorry for last night--”

“I’m not angry,” Kisumi quickly dismisses, flicking some ashes from his cigarette. “I just want to get to Kyoto soon… All there is to see here are trees, and trees, and more trees--”

“Because we’re not even in a town yet.”

“That’s why we should hurry~.” Kisumi heaves out a sigh, then puts his cigarette out in the ash tray. “Should I go ahead and book a room at a hotel before we get there?”

“I kind of want to stay at a ryokan--”

“Seriously?” Laughing, Kisumi raises a brow at Makoto. “Come on, we’ll only be in Kyoto for one night, you know?” And everywhere will probably be filled up already.”

Makoto grimaces at Kisumi’s words and he sends him a sideways glance, shoulders slumping. It’s not that Kisumi isn’t right, it’d just be more fun if he wasn’t.

“But,” Kisumi continues, his hand moving to rest atop Makoto’s leg and stroke it, “it does sound fun, you’re right~. I haven’t been to a ryokan in so long~.” He breathes out a dreamy sigh. “For our next holiday, let’s book one ahead of time, okay? It’s something I’d like to do with you~.”

Makoto feels his cheeks warm with happiness, and a smile slips its way onto his lips. He nods once, then looks back to the road, squinting when the sunlight hits his eyes. He pulls down the sunglasses that rest on top of his head, and Kisumi coos.

“What is it?”

“You look so cool,” Kisumi tells him. “Sunglasses, messy hair, stubble--”

“I forgot to shave again?”

Kisumi snatches his phone up and quickly snaps a picture, and Makoto can’t retaliate, since he has both hands on the wheel. He just lets it happen, knowing good and well that whatever the picture looks like, it’s still going on Instagram.

“Makoto is so handsome~,” Kisumi sings to himself.

Makoto laughs, “Seven years and you’re still like this?”

“Sometimes it still feels new, you know?”

Makoto smiles to himself. Kisumi’s phone pings again with a new message, and his face lights up as if he were receiving some sort of gift.

“Who is it?” Makoto asks him, glancing over as Kisumi reads through the message.

“It’s Hayato,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “He told me, ‘Onii-chan, if you have time to play around on Instagram, then hurry home! You’re taking so long! And tell Coach Tachibana to come for a while, too! I want to swim with him!’ What a bold boy he’s become~.”

Makoto hums and nods. “I keep telling him that he doesn’t need to call me Coach anymore. It’s been so long since then.”

“It has been, huh? Around ten years now, right?” Kisumi giggles as he starts to respond to the message. “Can you believe it, Makoto? My baby brother is going to be a third year high schooler soon~. They grow up so fast~.”

“You sound like a doting father,” Makoto laughs, earning a flattered grin from Kisumi.

“Hayato is as close as I can get, after all~.”

“You’d be a good dad. Do you think I would be?”

Kisumi pauses. “Yes,” he says, oddly quiet all of a sudden. “I think you’d be the best father.”

“I’m glad,” Makoto hums, returning to the subject of Hayato. “You think he’ll be the captain of his swim team this year?”

The quiet Kisumi is gone in a heartbeat at the question. “Is there any doubt about it?” He sounds so sure that Makoto can’t help but feel that it really is the only outcome. “Oh, but, you know, it’s not just Hayato growing up, yeah?”

“Hm?”

“Ran and Ren are, too~.” He smiles. “I know we’ll be seeing them soon, but how have they been? It’s been a while since I last spoke to them myself.”

***

It’s been years since he’s seen his mother cry. The last time he remembers was at the funeral for Haruka’s grandmother. Now, she sits before him with her face hidden in her hands and her shoulders trembling from quiet sobs.

Makoto wonders, is this really as bad as death to her?

The evening had started off just fine-- They had arrived at the Tachibana household, clad in warm coats and bearing gifts for the family that eagerly awaited Makoto’s return. They had been surprised to see Kisumi at his side, but easily assumed that he was just a friend and welcomed him inside.

Ran and Ren loved him, and Kisumi treated them just as he would Hayato. He’s good with kids, though by now they’re teens, and he spoke and gossiped with them for a solid hour before Makoto was able to drag him away. He almost felt jealous that Kisumi was getting more time with them than he was, but then he thought, this is wonderful. They all accept him.

It was the furthest thing from the truth. By his side, Kisumi sits with his head lowered, his hands folded in his lap. Makoto wants to reach over and hold them, but he doesn’t, because his father’s eyes are right on the couple. Unable to look at him, Makoto bites down on his lower lip. He glances to the side and sees Ran and Ren watching them from the hallway, hidden behind the corner of the wall, confusion and worry painted all over their young faces.

Makoto thought he had said it well enough. There wasn’t much to say anyways. He sat down with his family for dinner, and after a good while of friendly chatter, he told his parents the news about who Kisumi really was to him.

They first thought it to be a joke, and Makoto had to state it again, firmer. That was when it really seemed to hit them. His mother stared at them with shock in her usually loving green eyes, and when tears began to travel down her cheeks, all was silent. Makoto’s stomach had immediately twisted.

His father sent Ran and Ren out of the room, saying that the four of them had to have a conversation between adults. Makoto hardly ever saw his father without his gentle smile, and he felt like a child, terrified.

In the silence, all there is are the occasional sobs from his mother, and the ticking of their wall clock that hasn’t been changed in years. Makoto follows the rhythm in his head, thinking that anything is better than this. Not one word is said-- Really, no one has anything to say right now. There’s a cold sweat on Makoto’s back, and he swallows, his throat dry.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks between his parents, then settles his gaze on his father. “Dad--”

“Makoto,” he interrupts, removing his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “You’re saying that you’re dating Shigino-kun--”

“That’s right.” Makoto sits up straighter, brows furrowing. Kisumi still hasn’t moved a muscle. “We’ve been dating for two years now.”

“Two years?” his mother whispers, looking at them with a trembling lower lip. “Two years and you didn’t think to tell us?”

Makoto feels a stab of pain. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “But that’s why I’m telling you now…”

His parents exchange a look that he can’t read, and he purses his lips, stomach curling. He feels sick, because this isn’t what he had expected-- He had just been too optimistic. He should have listened to Kisumi’s doubts, understood that he was being given a warning.

He just thought that his parents would have been _different_.

He tries to speak again. “Japan is changing--”

His father holds his hand up and cuts Makoto off, then sighs as if he’s exhausted. “Makoto. Your mother and I…” His hand moves to grab his wife’s. “We love you. With all our hearts, we love you, but we can’t…” His free hand gestures between Makoto and Kisumi. “This isn’t what we want for you.”

Tears sting Makoto’s eyes, but he blinks them back and lowers his head again. “But--”

“It’s not our choice whether you continue this relationship or not.” His father looks to Kisumi, and Makoto’s heart falls. “Shigino-kun,” he says, oddly gentle, “we’re sorry you have to listen to this.”

For the first time since the conversation started, Kisumi lifts his head, wearing a weak smile. “Don’t worry about me. This is between you and Makoto.”

He stands, and Makoto helplessly watches as he goes towards the stairs. “Kisumi--”

“It’s not my place to intervene,” Kisumi interrupts with a level voice. “I’ll be upstairs.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and the three of them are left alone. Makoto feels a headache coming on-- He’s scared. What is he supposed to do now? How can he face his parents like this?

Shame, guilt, and pain washes over him like a tidal wave, and slowly, he turns back to them. They watch him with pity in their eyes.

“Makoto,” his father starts, “This isn’t the life we want you to lead. We worry for your safety, and… Surely, you’ll end up unhappy this way. You can’t get married, or have kids…” He pauses to reach over and take Makoto’s hand into his own. In a daze, Makoto wonders when his father started getting wrinkles, when his hand became so much smaller. “We want you to be happy and lead a respectable life, because a man like you deserves that.”

“...Dad…”

“We’re sorry.”

They really aren’t.

“Shigino-kun is a good man, but… What the two of you have, we can’t accept it. I’m sorry.”

***

They arrive in Kyoto while the sun is still high in the sky. Their first stop in the city is at their hotel so they can check in, and once their car is parked and their overnight bags are in their room, they set off on foot to explore the city.

Tourists and vacationers from all over roam the streets and pack into shops, and in the crowds that they have to filter through, Kisumi grabs for Makoto’s hand and laces their fingers together. Makoto doesn’t protest and instead gives Kisumi’s hand a squeeze as they share a smile.

“It’s so hot out,” Kisumi says at one point, fanning himself with a flier he was given. “It’s like… I’m the meat in a hot pot… And all these people are… The vegetables.”

Makoto doesn’t say anything about the strange analogy, but he does agree with it. He feels beads of sweat trail down the back of his neck. Letting go of Kisumi’s hand for a moment, he wipes his palm on his pants leg, then quickly returns to holding it. “We could look for somewhere less busy…”

“Like a temple?” Kisumi offers, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “I want to go to one~. Let’s go~.”

“A lot of the bigger ones will probably be busy, too,” Makoto murmurs, rubbing his chin in thought. “We should find a smaller place, I guess…”

“Anywhere is good~.”

With that mindset, they begin on their small journey, pausing here and there to look inside shops or get something to drink. It’s around an hour later when they find a fairly uncrowded temple, and being out of the rush of people comes as a relief to them both.

Sipping at his straw, Kisumi lets go of Makoto’s hand and walks a few steps ahead, glancing back with a smile. “Let’s go offer a prayer, yeah?”

The coins drop into the box, their hands clap together once, twice, and they close their eyes. Silent for a few moments, Makoto is the first to finish his prayer, and he moves aside to let someone else do the same. Kisumi stays still for a bit longer, then grins to himself and moves to join Makoto.

“You took a while,” Makoto teases.

Kisumi shrugs. “I had a lot to ask for~.”

“Like?”

“Like… For Hayato to become the swim team captain, and to pass his exams, and for my team to make it to finals this year, and for your kids to win their swim meets--”

“Kisumi--”

“And for Ran and Ren’s studies to go well--”

“You’ll give the gods a headache if you ask for so much!” Makoto laughs, shaking his head. “They can only do so much, you know.”

“It’s fine, isn’t it?” Kisumi grins, then slips his hand into Makoto’s. They catch a few wandering eyes, but do nothing about it. “They don’t have to do _everything_. But a little help would be nice.”

Nodding, Makoto pulls Kisumi over to a bench so they can sit for a bit, and Kisumi seems just fine with that. “Is your knee hurting at all?”

“I’m fine~.”

“That’s good.” Leaning his head back, Makoto stares up through the tree branches, squinting when sunlight peeks through the lush green leaves. “Hey, Kisumi-- Did you ask for anything for yourself?”

“Hm?”

“Well, all of those things you listed off have to do with other people, so…”

Kisumi hums, his brows knitting together, but then he smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t have anything I really want.”

“Oh?” Somehow, Makoto doesn’t believe him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive~. I mean, I have everything I need already, so what more is there to ask for?”

It’s a simple comment that makes Makoto’s face grow warm and his heart flutter. Biting back a smile, he turns his head to the side, trying to conceal the blush that dusts his cheeks. “I see…”

“Oh, and I also wished for you to lead a happy-- You look really red. Makoto?”

He feels Kisumi scoot closer, but he still hides his face. “Ah, by the way! Ren got a girlfriend~. Did I tell you that?”

“Ehh, are you serious?” Kisumi laughs in delight and claps his hands together. “Oh, wow! I should go ask the gods to grant them happiness and fertility!”

All color drains from Makoto’s face as he turns to stare at Kisumi. “Fertility?!” he repeats, his voice reaching a pitch he didn’t even know he was capable of. “Ren is still too young to be thinking about kids!”

“Then marriage?”

“No! Absolutely not!”

***

It’s after the rough conversation that everyone goes their separate ways. Ran and Ren head to their bedroom, but not before giving both Kisumi and Makoto hugs goodnight. Makoto thinks that children are far more sentimental and forgiving than adults are, and he quietly thanks them before sending them off.

Alone in his room, Makoto sits on his bed, smoothing his hand over his old sheets. He wishes he could just go to sleep and pretend that all of this never happened, but it’s impossible. There’s another person he has to talk to, and if he could, he’d choose to never have the discussion.

He isn’t given time to gather his thoughts. The door to his room opens, and Kisumi peeks his head in, reluctant to enter. Makoto smiles weakly and pats the spot next to him. Kisumi hesitates, then moves to sit down, not looking at Makoto.

The silence is tense, melancholy, but Kisumi doesn’t let it last for long. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s my fault this happened.”

“What?” Makoto looks to him with knitted brows. “What do you mean? How is it your--”

“Because I’m the one who pulled you into this relationship.” Kisumi turns his head away. “So, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not…” Makoto trails off. He wants to disagree and tell him that they’re both at fault here, but in the end, he can’t. His hands close into his fists, nails digging into his palms.

They both know what comes next. Neither of them have the courage to say it first.

Heart pounding, Makoto purses his lips, then looks to Kisumi. “I want to make my family happy,” he starts quietly, struggling to find the right words. “I want… To lead a respectable life for them. We’ve always been a very…” He trails off, not wanting to say anymore. “ _Normal_ family. I can’t disturb the balance of it.”

It’s much harder than he thought it would be. Kisumi still doesn’t look at him, so he can’t tell what kind of expression he’s wearing. He isn’t sure if it even makes a difference at this point.

“The time I’ve spent with you… These past two years have been fun,” he continues. “You’ve been a great friend to me for a long time now-- And a great boyfriend, too… You, um… You deserve better--”

“Makoto,” Kisumi interrupts, his tone of voice piercing Makoto like a knife and telling him to quit stalling the inevitable.

Swallowing down the ache in his throat, Makoto lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I… We have to end this. I can’t do this to them. I want to lead the respectable life they want for me, so…”

He trails off, not knowing what to expect next. His mind tells him that Kisumi will cry-- That’s the most normal reaction to being broken up with. Makoto saw it happen between his classmates dozens of times, so this should be no different.

But Kisumi isn’t someone normal. When he finally turns to Makoto wearing a smile, Makoto’s at a loss for words. It’s the smile of someone who expected this-- The smile of someone who has learned that this is his place in the world, that this is the only thing he _should_ expect.

Makoto sees that smile in a person who doesn’t deserve this, and he suddenly has to fight back a sob that threatens to ruin everything he has going.

“I understand,” Kisumi tells him, resting a hand on Makoto’s knee. “I know-- This isn’t the life you should be leading. No one deserves to be told this by their family. It’s a life I dragged you into, so again, I’m sorry.”

The hand on Makoto’s knee gives a comforting squeeze, and Kisumi stands up, staring down at Makoto with a gentle gaze he’s not worthy of. He cups Makoto’s cheeks, leans in close, and presses a kiss to his forehead. He lingers for just a few moments, then pulls away, hiding his hands behind his back.

“Makoto, thank you-- For doing this for me. It wasn’t always easy for you, right?” He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean… Being with someone you don’t love. I was selfish for taking advantage of your kindness.”

Makoto’s stomach drops and he hurries to speak. “That’s not--”

“Makoto,” Kisumi interrupts, taking a step back. Makoto can’t finish his sentence, because Kisumi looks at him with knowing eyes, and it hurts more than Makoto could have ever imagined. “You don’t have to pretend-- I’ve probably always known.”

Kisumi’s smile grows, and Makoto thinks that it would have been easier if he had just cried instead.

“Despite that… You made me really happy these past few years. I’ll never forget them-- And we don’t have to stop being friends. We can just… Pretend all of this never happened. It’s simpler that way.” He nods as if answering for Makoto. “I’ll return to Tokyo in the morning. I’ll have my things gone by the time you’re back, okay? Thank your family for me-- I really enjoyed my time here.”

He moves towards the door. Makoto can only watch him helplessly, not able to find the right words to say. Not even an apology is possible.

“Goodnight,” Kisumi says, smiling as he closes the door behind him.

Just like that, he’s out of Makoto’s reach, and when Makoto wakes the next morning, he’s already gone. There’s a heavy, tense air that looms over his family, and he tells them quietly that everything is over. His parents seem relieved-- And their relief makes him feel nothing but a bitter taste on his tongue.

For the rest of the holidays, Makoto is able to spend time peacefully with them. For most of it, Kisumi isn’t on his mind, but that’s only because Ran and Ren keep him busy, more so than usual.

It’s only when he returns to Tokyo after New Years that the truth really seems to hit him. He enters his apartment, almost expecting a warm _‘Welcome home,’_ but there’s no such thing.

He stands at his entrance and looks around the room, lips pursed, but he tries to not dwell on it. He’s more interested in going to bed, so he goes to get out his futon, his chest squeezing when there’s only one in the closet.

In the morning, when he wakes up with a clouded head, he gets up and begins to head for his bathroom, stepping over a duffel bag that he quickly realizes isn’t there anymore.

In his cabinet, there’s only one tooth brush, and the face creams he had come to enjoy using himself are gone as well. Still, he tries to not think about it, and simply splashes some water on his face.

He foregoes breakfast and gets ready for the day ahead, and on his way out, he barely catches himself before he says, _"I’m off."_

It’s like that for a few days, and he curses the fact that old habits die hard. It shouldn’t be this bad, he thinks. The apartment was exactly like this before Kisumi moved in. It just felt like rewinding a couple of years.

Back then, though, it had never felt this empty.

He returns home one night with a slight headache from the dinner rush. Removing his coat, he tosses it aside carelessly, ignoring how his mind reminds him that Kisumi didn’t like when he did that.

In his fridge, there’s only one beer that they had forgotten to drink before heading to Iwatobi. Kisumi likes them more than he does, but anything to numb his senses and thoughts is welcome. He grabs it, then goes to find the bottle opener.

Rummaging through the drawer, he’s able to find it, but before he can open his beer, something lying behind the coffee maker that he hadn’t noticed before catches his eyes. Setting his drink aside, he grabs the paper note and finds the spare key he had forgotten about sitting underneath it.

The cold metal under his fingertips is like ice to his skin, and almost immediately, tears begin to rim and sting his eyes. He tries to blink them away to no avail, and through blurred vision, he opens the note, finding Kisumi’s flowing handwriting inside.

_'I cleaned up before leaving. Don’t worry about me, okay? I have a place to stay at. I left you the spare key. I’ll see you around soon, so don’t get too lonely~.'_

There isn’t a hint of disdain or remorse or anger in the letter. It’s exactly like how Kisumi always is, and it hurts.

One tear slides down his cheek and falls onto the note, and then another. Makoto has to put it down before he ruins it forever. Using the counter for support, he leans over, feeling sick to his stomach. There’s a weak cry that threatens to spill out from him, and his headache begins to get worse.

He takes in slow, deep breaths, and when he thinks he’ll be okay, he quickly realizes he’s wrong. He covers his face and grits his teeth and tries to convince himself that this is for the best, for his family, for himself, but the pathetic whimpers and hiccups that pass through his lips tell him otherwise.

This apartment is lonely and bleak and he finds himself wishing he could just pack up, leave, and never look back. All it will ever be now is a reminder of the mistake he’s only just realized he’s made-- A reminder of the awful things things he said, the awful agreement he made, and the awful understanding that he can’t go back now.

There’s no fixing this, because what’s done is done.

On his kitchen floor, he sits with his head in his arms, muffling his sobs that could disturb his neighbors. This will make his parents happy, he tells himself. It won’t take him long to forget-- Time heals all wounds.

He’ll be okay.

Kisumi will be okay.

Kisumi will find someone new to love. Someone better.

Makoto wishes that his _‘A-ha!’_ moment had been different from this.

***

It doesn’t take much for the city to wear them down to the wire, and by the time they’ve had dinner and returned to their hotel, they’re nothing but exhausted. Kisumi is the first to collapse on the bed, taking one whiff of his armpit. His face twists in disgust.

“I’m so gross,” he mutters.

“You’re not the only one,” Makoto laughs, shedding his sweat-stained shirt and tossing it onto the bed. Kisumi recoils with his tongue sticking out. “Can I shower first? I won’t take long.”

“Go ahead.” Kisumi manages to stand and wobble over to the AC, putting it on a full, cold blast. “If I’m asleep when you get out, just wake me up~.”

Makoto nods and heads to the bathroom, starting up the warm shower and stepping in. The water soothes his aching muscles, and he wishes he could stay under the spray for longer, but he knows good and well that Kisumi is on the verge of passing out.

With his time cut short, he throws a towel over his wet head and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, foregoing a night shirt. When he steps back into their room, steam from the bathroom rolling out as he opens the door, he finds a barely awake Kisumi hugging onto one of the pillows.

His eyes slip closed once, and then he jolts awake again, a large yawn escaping him. Makoto holds in a laugh and moves to sit at the end of the bed. He takes Kisumi’s ankle into his hand and smooths his thumb over the skin.

“You’re kind of dry,” he notes, making Kisumi kick out of his grasp.

“You’re supposed to tell me that, even though I have dry skin, I’m still handsome.”

“You’re handsome--”

“It doesn’t count anymore~.” Grinning, Kisumi sits up and scoots over to Makoto, planting a kiss on his cheek before he stands to claim the bathroom for himself. “If I’m not out in thirty minutes, assume I’ve drowned.”

“Okay~.”

“You’re not supposed to be okay with that!”

Kisumi laughs when Makoto waves him off, then closes the bathroom door. There’s some noise from behind it, then the spray of the shower tunes everything else out.

Makoto listens for a bit, and he can vaguely hear Kisumi humming to himself, but it isn’t long before his eyes slip closed. He dozes off, the cool sheets keeping him comfortable, only to be awoken by Kisumi bouncing onto the bed with him.

Turning to look at him, Makoto blinks a few times, then sits up. “A robe,” he murmurs. “Hotel robe?”

“It’s soft,” Kisumi tells him, grinning when Makoto runs a hand over his back to feel the fabric. “You should have used the other one.” He sits up and traces his finger over Makoto’s abdomen. “This is good too, though.”

“I’d hope so.” Makoto moves to escape Kisumi’s ticklish touch, crawling up the bed to rest his head on a pillow. “We should try to make it to Iwatobi tomorrow.”

The mattress shifts as Kisumi crawls up right alongside him, grabbing an extra pillow to hug close. Makoto smiles at the familiar habit.

“Hey, Makoto,” Kisumi murmurs as he begins rubbing his foot against Makoto’s leg, “how does my ankle feel now?”

“It’s soft.”

“I used moisturizer.”

“I can tell~.” Makoto reaches over and cups the back of Kisumi’s neck, pulling him into a short kiss. “Let’s sleep so we can leave early, okay?”

Kisumi nods. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

That becomes obvious with how Kisumi’s out within a few minutes. His face is buried into the pillow, and he emits a few light snores, but they’re not enough to bother Makoto. He’s been sleeping with them for years now.

The bedside lamp barely illuminates the room, and Makoto reaches over Kisumi to turn it off, accidentally jostling him in the process. Muttering under his breath, Kisumi shifts, then settles again. Makoto watches him with bated breath, then relaxes. Without thinking, he threads his fingers through Kisumi’s still damp hair, snorting when a few dry strands begin to fluff up.

Again, this disrupts Kisumi’s sleep. He doesn’t wake, but his lips drawn into a thin, agitated line, and his eyebrows knit together. A few wrinkles form on his forehead, and Makoto bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It’s something so normal, but on Kisumi it’s just unbearably cute.

He draws his hand back and rests it on his stomach, staring at the ceiling as his eyes begin to close. “Hey, Kisumi,” he whispers, nudging his leg. “Kisumi.”

Muttering again, Kisumi tries to wiggle away far enough to where he’s not falling off the bed, and he speaks slowly. “What…”

“When do you think we’ll start getting wrinkles--” Makoto flinches when Kisumi’s foot jams hard into his leg. “Ow!”

“Go to sleep,” Kisumi tells him, rolling over so his back is to Makoto.

“But really--”

Kisumi breathes out a sigh. “Sleep.” There’s a small pause. “You’ll get wrinkly first.”

“Why me?”

“Goodnight.”

Makoto stares at Kisumi’s back with a smile, then shifts so he can press a kiss to his exposed nape. “Mm. Goodnight.”

***

Winter turns to spring, and Makoto leaves his university as a freshly graduated student. He doesn’t plan on returning to Iwatobi yet-- He’s grown used to Tokyo life, something he thought would never actually happen. Leaving an apartment that’s filled to the brim with memories of the past four years is a little more upsetting than it should be.

It’s not long after he graduates that he finds a job at one of the local swimming clubs, somewhere in Tokyo’s suburbs. It’s not too far from his apartment, the kids love him, and he remembers just how much fun this line of work is. He makes new friends in his coworkers-- Particularly one of the other swim instructors, a nice girl just a year older than him.

She takes him on as her responsibility, since she’s been at the club longer than him, and it’s midsummer when she first asks him out for drinks. They begin following a pattern that soon ends in her asking him to be her boyfriend.

The confession shocks him at first-- He mostly thought of her as a good friend to him, but the sincerity in her words and her feelings softens him up to the idea. It’s a good chance, he thinks. His parents would like her.

He accepts her confession with ease, not saying whether or not he returns her feelings. She’s happy enough with just being accepted, and their relationship starts there. Makoto debates on whether he should tell Haruka or not, and decides to wait and see where this will go first.

Life becomes normal-- It’s the life of an ordinary man that he hadn’t been following for two years. When they go out together, he can hold her hand, but he finds it almost embarrassing and uncomfortable. He’s never been good with PDA. She doesn’t seem to mind that, though, and often tells him it’s one of his cuter traits, despite being such a large man.

He finds it odd, actually. Getting to flirt so openly, and walk so close together, and having no one bat an eye at them, and having no one whisper, _‘Are they…?’_

They’re teased often at work. Their coworkers call them lovebirds, and the children coo in their direction if they so much as talk. She blushes and laughs and tries to wave off their teasing, and Makoto thinks her cute, but he wonders if he should be more affected by the teasing than he actually is.

At the end of the day, it’s so normal he could cry. There are no secrets, no disappointed parents, and no Kisumi.

It’s been almost a year since the night they separated. Kisumi had said that they could remain friends, but Makoto supposes they both knew that had been a lie. Kisumi hasn’t texted him once since then, and Makoto returns the favor, but he never deletes Kisumi’s number from his phone.

Though, at this point, he can’t be sure if Kisumi even still has the same number. He doesn’t even know if Kisumi is still in Tokyo, or if he moved away-- And what of his basketball career? Makoto doesn’t keep up with the sport. He’s too focused on making sure the children he coaches have the opportunity to reach their dreams in the water.

He feels a desire to know what Kisumi has been up to. That desire is outweighed by guilt and cowardice. Makoto knows that if he were to call Kisumi up now, things would just… It wouldn’t be the same as it once was. They’ve known each other since middle school, but there’s no way to go back to a time before Kisumi’s confession.

That’s fine. It’s fine, because Makoto feels that the girl he’s dating is someone he could fall in love with. He’s happy with her, and she seems happy with him, and his life is great-- It’s just as he wanted it to be.

Respectable. Normal.

He tells himself that over and over again, but he’s never thrown out Kisumi’s note, and he still hasn’t given his girlfriend the spare key to his apartment. She’s asked him why a few times. He hasn’t been able to answer her yet, and always takes the conversation somewhere else. He’s surprised and relieved that she hasn’t gotten angry with him yet.

“Be sure to stretch properly before we get in the water,” he tells the kids one January afternoon, hands on his hips as they grin up at him with adoring eyes. He can feel the excitement radiating from them.

“Tachibana-kun?” A call from the side of the room reaches him and he turns his head, recognizing the woman who usually sits behind the front desk.

He tells the kids that he’ll be back in a minute, then jogs over with a smile. “Yes?”

“You have a call,” she says. “From a Nanase-san?”

“Oh?”

That’s odd-- Haruka has never called the club before. Really, Haruka rarely even calls his cell phone in the first place, and his texts are… Less than brilliant, if Makoto had to describe them. Still, he doesn’t think much of it at first, and goes to answer the phone.

“Haru?” he greets, hoping this won’t take too long. The kids are really ready to go. “Is there something?”

The other end of the line is silent for a moment, but when Haruka speaks, his voice is unusually grim. “Are you busy?”

“Ah… A little bit, but what is it?”

There’s another pause. “You wouldn’t pick up your cellphone. Sorry.”

“It’s in my locker--”

“I’m at the hospital right now.”

Makoto’s stomach drops instantly. His head begins to run wild with depressing thoughts, and he quickly asks, “Are you alright? Did you get hurt? Haru, what happened--”

“It isn’t me,” Haruka interrupts.

Relieved, Makoto relaxes. “Oh, thank goodness… But what happened? It’s not Rin, is it? Did he get hurt during training?” His nerves begin to bristle again. “Please tell me he didn’t--”

“Makoto,” Haruka interrupts again. “It’s not me or Rin.”

“Then what is it? Why are you at the hospital?”

“It’s Kisumi.” Haruka sighs. “He got hurt.”

“Kisu--”

“I think you should come. If you can.”

Makoto can feel his fingers begin to tremble, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. “What happened? How is he hurt?”

“Can you come?”

Makoto looks to the secretary, who seems worried for him. He swallows despite his dry throat, and asks quietly. “I need to leave-- A friend of mine--”

She nods before he can finish, and he quickly tells Haruka that he can be there. He gets directions and hangs up, thanks the woman when she says she’ll explain for him, and he hurries to the locker room to get dressed.

He feels he should be more panicked, but most of what he’s feeling is confusion and dread-- Not dread for however Kisumi hurt himself, but dread for having to see him again after all the time that’s passed.

Things were just starting to become normal. He knows his thoughts are selfish, but he’s scared beyond belief for whatever awaits him.

***

It’s an engine, alright.

An engine that absolutely refuses to run.

Makoto stares down into the mechanical workings with narrowed eyes. The sun beats down on the back of his neck, and he stands straight, looking to Kisumi.

“Do you know how to fix it?” he asks.

“I was hoping you would know.”

“Ah.”

They both look down at the engine again, silent for a few moments. Kisumi is the first to groan in frustration.

“Is this for real?” he says to no one in particular, dragging his fingers through his hair. “They rented us out a faulty car?”

“They must have not known, huh…”

“Shouldn’t they check these things first?” Kisumi purses his lips, leaning against the car. “How far did we even get out of Kyoto?”

“Barely even an hour--”

Kisumi sighs and lowers his head. “Barely even an hour…”

“Yeah…”

Makoto looks down the road with brows knitted together. Here they are, stuck on the side of the road, surrounded by wilderness, with virtually no idea of how far away the next town is--

A laugh bubbles out of him, making Kisumi jump and narrow his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Isn’t this kind of weird?” Makoto giggles, hiding a smile behind his hand. “This happens in TV dramas and stuff, right? It’s almost so bad that it’s funny.”

Kisumi watches him with a glare for a few moments, but as Makoto keeps laughing, that glare is replaced with a toothy grin. “What are you so happy for~? We were getting so close to Iwatobi, you know~. Auntie is gonna be so mad at us--”

“Auntie?” Makoto repeats, raising a brow. “Who is Auntie?”

“Your mom~.”

“When did you start calling her that?!”

“Her and I can talk without you being there, you know.” He dismisses Makoto’s curiosity as his smile falls. “But really, what should we do about this?”

Right. That’s still the matter at hand here. Rubbing the back of his neck, Makoto stares at the car. “We could walk to the next town--”

“My knee wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

“Right, right…” Makoto checks his watch. “Then, I could walk to the next town--”

“You’d really go that far?” Kisumi shakes his head. “No.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone and starts tapping away at the screen, his tongue poking out through his pursed lips. “We’re about thirty minutes away from the next town by car… So it wouldn’t take long for a mechanic from there to reach us.”

Makoto nods, peering over Kisumi’s shoulder as he brings up the number for some mechanic’s shop. “You’re so smart.”

“I’m not~.” Kisumi smiles again as he dials the number. “You’re just getting bad with technology, you old man~.”

Makoto pinches Kisumi’s side at the unheeded comment, then listens to the fairly short conversation with waning interest. Depending on the severity of this… He’ll probably have to call his parents and tell them they won’t be in Iwatobi until tomorrow.

“So you know where we are? That’s great~.” Kisumi pauses as the person on the other line speaks, and his face lights up with interest for whatever reason. “Oh? And how long will it be before you’re here? Thirty minutes, right?” He pauses again. “Okay~. Thank you very much~. You can call this number whenever you arrive~.”

Hanging up, he turns to Makoto with a grin. Makoto lopsidedly returns it, a bad feeling settling in his chest. “So someone is coming?”

“That’s right. And he told me something interesting~.”

“Hm?”

“Apparently, there’s a nice hiking trail near here that only the locals know about~. He said since it’ll be a while until he gets here, we should go for a walk.”

Makoto’s smile disappears. “That’s… Kind of sketchy--”

“Stingy.”

“I’m not!”

“I think we should go.” Saying that, Kisumi goes to retrieve his backpack from the car, slinging it over his shoulder. “And if this is a scam, we can just bring our bags along so nothing valuable is stolen, right?”

Somehow, this takes Makoto back to their younger years. He’s reminded of how Kisumi always used to be on the go-- More so than he is nowadays. Despite all this talk of growing old, there’s still a vigorous and energetic spirit within Kisumi, and Makoto feels relieved for some reason. He hopes that spark is never lost.

“Your knee, though--”

“It’s fine.” Kisumi waves off the concern and grabs Makoto’s backpack from the back seat, tossing it to him. “I haven’t been hiking in a long time, you know. Tokyo isn’t exactly fit for this kind of thing.”

“That’s true, but…”

“Makoto.” Stepping closer, Kisumi smiles and pats his shoulder. “I’m saying I’m fine. If it starts hurting, you can carry me back, right?”

“There you go again, putting it all on me…”

“Because I know you’ll do it.”

He isn’t wrong, and Makoto sighs as he puts his backpack on his shoulders, following wherever Kisumi leads.

***

When Makoto reaches the hospital, he finds Haruka sitting in one of the lobby chairs with his arms crossed, waiting for him. His brows are furrowed, and he’s tense, but when he sees Makoto approaching, he immediately relaxes and stands up.

“Sorry I took so long,” Makoto says, but Haruka waves it off.

“It’s fine. Let’s go to his room.”

“Wait--” Makoto grimaces when Haruka turns to stare at him. Looking away from his best friend, he laces his fingers together nervously. “I still don’t… I still don’t know what happened.”

“He hurt his knee.”

“His knee--” Makoto feels like his stomach in his throat, but he shakes it off. “How… How badly?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Oh.”

They’re silent, and before Makoto says they should go, Haruka speaks.

“You two…” He trails off, then looks away. “You two haven’t spoken in a while.”

Makoto nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“But there was a time where you both lived together.”

His heart skips a beat, and he stares at the floor, shifting. “That’s right.”

Another silence. Makoto knows what he should expect next, but he hopes he’s wrong. There’s many things he feels guilty about-- And one of those is simply never telling Haruka just what his and Kisumi’s relationship had really been. When Kisumi first moved in, Haruka had been confused, but he never asked.

Why Makoto felt he needed to lie, he has no idea now. All he had said was that it was cheaper for them to live together, and Haruka agreed. Kisumi had too, never questioning why Makoto felt so ashamed that he couldn’t even tell his best friend.

He feels Haruka’s familiar stare on him. Gathering himself, he lifts his eyes to meet it.

Haruka speaks slowly. “Kisumi has been hanging around me a lot more. More than he did before, when you lived together.” His hands hide themselves in his pockets. “It was annoying.”

“Mm. I bet--”

“But I still let him. When I asked about you… He said he didn’t want to call you. Something about how he had already been too much trouble.”

Makoto feels that it’s been a long time since he’s heard Haruka speak this much. With his Olympic training on hand, it gets hard sometimes, because their lives have taken their own paths over time.

He wishes that their first conversation in a while didn’t have to be like this, but he doesn’t look away from Haruka. He just listens to what has to be said.

“I didn’t know what he meant when he said that, but… I’m not dumb.” Haruka steps closer to Makoto and lowers his voice, as if other people are listening to them. “You could have told me. About you two.”

Another wave of guilt hits Makoto, and he tears his eyes away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. But why didn’t you.”

“Because…” He doesn’t have an excuse.” You’re busy a lot of the time now, you know? I didn’t… Want to bother you. I mean, telling you I’m dating a man while you’re trying to focus on your future? It’d be too big of a shock, right?”

He flinches when Haruka suddenly pinches his hand, leaving a nice red mark on the skin.

“What the heck,” Haruka says.

“What the heck?” Makoto repeats.

“A shock for who,” he mutters. “Are you an idiot?”

“I’m not!”

“You are.” Sighing, Haruka looks up to Makoto with a brow raised. “Who do you think I am.”

Makoto groans and steps away, dragging his fingers through his hair. “My best friend, which is exactly _why_ \--”

“Idiot,” Haruka says again. Before Makoto can defend himself though, Haruka’s expression softens. “Me being busy isn’t the same as me not having time for you. So stop thinking that.”

His words keep Makoto from saying anything more. There’s a new, happy feeling in his heart, because the reminder feels good. With a bashful smile, he nods. “Okay.”

Pleased that Makoto understands, Haruka turns on his heel and begins marching towards an elevator, motioning for Makoto follow. Makoto does so, and as they travel up a few floors of the building, his prior happiness begins to fade. It’s replaced by the same feeling of dread that he had felt earlier, and he looks to Haruka.

“Um…”

“What?”

“You didn’t… tell Kisumi I was coming, did you?”

“I didn’t. He would have told me not to call you.”

Makoto nods and looks at the floor, frowning. It’s his fault that Kisumi feels that way, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do to fix it-- Whatever needs fixing, that is. He still isn’t sure.

They step off of the elevator, Makoto’s heart heavy as Haruka leads him to one of the various rooms down the white corridor. Before Haruka can knock, Makoto grabs his wrist and meets his eyes.

“He won’t be happy,” he whispers.

Haruka nods. “Probably not.”

“I should go--”

Haruka doesn’t let him. Pulling out of Makoto’s grasp, he knocks on the door. From the other side, Kisumi tells him to come in. It’s been a long time since Makoto has heard his voice, and it’s just as gentle and airy as it’s always been.

Haruka enters first, and Kisumi greets him happily. “You took your time--”

He stops short when Makoto trails in after Haruka. The air around them goes still. Makoto can hardly bring himself to look at Kisumi, but he still manages to lift his head. When their eyes meet, Makoto’s chest squeezes painfully.

Kisumi lays on the bed with his left leg elevated. Makoto tries to not stare as Haruka moves closer to Kisumi.

“Did the doctor come back with results yet?” he asks, and Kisumi visibly hesitates before shaking his head.

“Not yet~. But that’s fine, since this bed is so comfy~.”

“Hm.” Haruka sighs, most likely due to Kisumi’s oddly happy demeanor. He then checks his wristwatch, lips drawing into a thin line. “I have training soon, so--”

“You can leave,” Kisumi tells him, reaching up to pat his shoulder with a grin. “Thanks for coming when I called. Having you here really helped, Haru.”

Haruka doesn’t say anything in return, and Makoto sees the way that his eyes search for some hint of discomfort on Kisumi’s face. He nods slowly, then speaks, his voice low. “Tell me when the results are in.”

“Of course. Don’t look so grim though, Haru~. It’s probably not that bad.”

Kisumi has a way with people. It’s something Makoto has always admired, but the one person who Kisumi had simply never been able to break was Haruka. For the longest time, Makoto thought that was still true, but when Haruka actually cracks a smile in return, he realizes how wrong he had been, and it’s uncomfortable to see.

He feels out of place suddenly, and wishes he could leave. These two became good friends at some point-- It’s somewhere he doesn’t belong.

As he thinks that, Haruka makes move to leave, and Makoto tries to helplessly follow him. “Haru--”

“It’s fine,” Haruka tells him quietly before closing the door.

Except it isn’t fine at all. Makoto thinks Haruka cruel for leaving him behind like this-- It would have been different if he had actually stuck around, but now Makoto is at a loss. It’s been over a year since he and Kisumi last spoke.

His throat is dry and he searches for something to say when Kisumi gently calls out to him.

“Makoto.” He turns, and Kisumi smiles. “You can come sit, you know. I won’t bite.”

Makoto hesitates, then slowly pulls up a chair to the bedside, sitting down and folding his hands in his lap. He doesn’t look at Kisumi, instead focusing his gaze on the elevated leg. The silence between them passes quickly.

“You came to see me,” Kisumi hums, resting his head against his pillow. “I’m surprised.”

“Well, I mean… I couldn’t just _not_ come see you…”

“How devoted~.” Laughing, Kisumi reaches over and pats Makoto’s shoulder, his hand lingering. “I’m really happy to see you again, Makoto.”

He says it so easily, as if that night never happened, as if a year hasn’t passed. Where Kisumi touches him, Makoto feels a familiar, comforting warmth that he’s missed. When he meets Kisumi’s gaze, he finds that his smile hasn’t changed, either.

“I’m sorry,” is what Makoto tries to say, but Kisumi stops him.

“Don’t start, don’t start. You have nothing to apologize for~.”

Makoto doesn’t think that’s true, but he manages a nod. “You look well,” he says instead. “Ah, I mean… Most of you looks well.”

Kisumi giggles at the off comment. “Do I really? I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

He really hasn’t. Makoto doesn’t know what he expected to find, but he’s content knowing that Kisumi is still just Kisumi. “Yeah. How have you been?”

Kisumi hums, rubbing his chin. “I’d rather hear about how you’ve been.” He smiles at how he catches Makoto off-guard. “Your graduation went smoothly, right? Did you find a job?”

Makoto frowns at the sudden shift to him, but he goes along with it. “It did,” he says. “And I have a job at a nice swimming club right now-- My coworkers are kind to me.”

“Is that right? I’m glad. You deserve it, after all.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “How nice, what a nice life. You always work so hard~. Your part-time job, keeping your grades up, and still finding time for me-- You’re really amazing, Makoto.” His smile grows and he peeks an eye open at Makoto. “Your girlfriend must be happy, huh?”

Makoto’s entire body stiffens and he spits out a strained, nervous laugh as he rubs the back of his neck. “Ah… Yeah, I guess she is… Haru told you?”

“He did~. Congratulations. Do you have pictures of her?”

“Um, I don’t… Not right now, at least.”

Kisumi pouts. “That’s too bad… I bet she’s pretty.” Kisumi leans a little closer to him. “Any special plans for the future?”

Why would you care, Makoto wonders. He looks away from Kisumi and purses his lips, not enjoying the sterile feeling of the conversation. “None,” he answers. “No, nothing like that…” He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. “So, what happened? With your knee?”

“Hm? Oh…” Kisumi laughs weakly. “I was just being clumsy. Some of my team members and I were playing on an outside court, and some of the concrete had iced over and…” He raises his hands and makes a motion as if he were making a shot. “I jumped, landed, slipped, and fell right on my knee~. It hurt so bad that I ended up passing out!” He puts a hand to his red cheek. “Isn’t that embarrassing?”

A shiver runs down Makoto’s spine at the very idea of it. He’s worried, but from how Kisumi is speaking about it… It really can’t be that bad. That’s a relief, and he smiles. “Did you make the shot?”

“I did!”

“Then how could it be embarrassing?”

They share a laugh and Kisumi shrugs his shoulders. “I guess it is pretty cool in the end, isn’t it? My teammates will definitely tease me, though~.”

“Teammates, huh…” Makoto leans back in his chair, beginning to feel a little more relaxed. “So you were accepted onto a team, then? You’ve gone pro?”

Kisumi hesitates for a moment, then nods. “I have. It’s not the national league or anything, but--”

“Still, that’s pretty amazing, right? You’re a professional!”

“It’s really that cool?” Kisumi rubs the back of his neck, cheeks flushed as he bites back a smile. Though he shouldn’t, Makoto thinks him to be cute. “I suppose it is, huh…”

As to why he sounds so unsure, Makoto can’t tell, and he doesn’t ask either. Instead, he simply nods, then begins to pepper Kisumi with questions about the life of a pro basketball player-- This seems to spur something in Kisumi on, because he can’t hold back with his bragging and ranting, and he grins through each and every detail.

“You wouldn’t believe how hard our coaches can be! Our trainers, too! And we’re on this super strict diet-- Do you know how long it’s been since I last had greasy fast food?” He sighs pitifully and slumps, though he still laughs. “But, you know what? It’s a lot of fun-- I really, really love it! And I love my teammates, too!”

Placing his chin in the palm of his hand, Makoto listens to the stories Kisumi has to tell-- He smiles at each mention of one of the teammates, because it sounds a lot like Kisumi has made some wonderful friends. Makoto’s happy for him.

He’s happy for himself, too. Getting to spend time with Kisumi again is fun-- Even if they’re sitting in a hospital room, Kisumi brightens up the bleak aura with just his smile and laughter. He’s the perfect presence, and he grins from ear to ear, moving his hands uncontrollably as he tells tales of his everyday life for the past year.

Makoto laughs with him, because some of the stories end up being so eccentric that he almost has a hard time believing them. From being permanently kicked out of some hole in the wall ramen shop because they may or may not have hit the manager with a basketball, to ending up on the wrong plane for a short summer vacation that was meant to be spent in Okinawa and flying to Sapporo instead… It sounds like it’s all been fun.

“We actually ended up staying in Sapporo~. The people at the inn treated us kindly, but our managers were so angry by the time we got back to Tokyo… Their faces were so red-- It was hilarious! I should have taken a picture, but they definitely would have hit me!”

Makoto laughs and covers his mouth, having to look away from Kisumi when he attempts to recreate the angry look. “ _Anyone_ would have hit you!”

“Even you?!”

“Well, maybe not _me_ , but--”

“Of course not~. You’re Makoto, after all.” Kisumi says it with a smile and fond eyes, and that single look is enough to make Makoto’s heart flutter in a way that it hasn’t in a long time.

His laughter fades away and he purses his lips, cursing himself for having this kind of reaction-- He was sure that he had gotten over his loneliness a long time ago, and if Kisumi had been lonely, too… He certainly wasn’t now. It was good like that.

They were fine like this.

“So, um…” He leans in closer to the bed with a brow raised. “Another question.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Your teammates… Do they know about you?”

It takes a few moments for Kisumi to understand what Makoto means, and when it sets in, he snorts and shakes his head. “No, no… I’d rather not ruin what we have going.”

“Ah, yeah…” That was a bad question. “Sorry for asking--”

“You apologize too much,” Kisumi says, reaching over to squeeze Makoto’s knee. “Don’t worry yourself, okay? It isn’t healthy.”

“What’s with that…” Laughing, Makoto looks at Kisumi’s hand, his smile growing. “So, you’re not dating anyone?” He doesn’t realize he’s asked the question until it’s out there and Kisumi is staring at him with both brows quirked up. Makoto’s stomach twists and he leans back, trying to wave it off. “Uh, no, sorry-- That doesn’t matter--”

“I’m not,” Kisumi answers smoothly, the corners of his lips turning up into a coy grin. “What are you so flustered for?”

“I’m not--”

“You are~.” Kisumi laughs and turns his head away. “No, I’ve been too busy for that. Besides, no one has caught my interest lately. I haven’t met anyone I can see myself falling in love with. The last person I fell for was--” He pauses to glance shortly at Makoto. “Well, you know.”

Makoto grimaces and looks at the polished tile floor. It’s become awfully hot in this room. “Yeah.”

“Mm.” Lacing his fingers together over his chest, Kisumi hums softly, just like he used to back when they lived together. “Truthfully, when I’m not with my teammates or practicing, I actually spend most of my time bothering Haru. He’s become kind of soft.”

“Well, he’s always been soft on the inside,” Makoto murmurs. “Deep down…”

“ _Really_ deep down with me.”

Makoto snorts. “That’s just how Haru is.”

“Of course~. Really, I owe him so much--” Kisumi smiles at the ceiling. “You have no idea how many times he’s let me pass out at his place… And he’s picked me up after I’ve had too much to drink, too. He even went to one of my games, once. He’s so busy most of the time… I don’t know why he started finding time for me.”

It’s because of the light that Kisumi doesn’t know he has, the light that he brings to people’s lives. It’s obvious-- He can affect anyone, no matter where he goes, or who they are. Haruka is no exception to that rule the gods themselves must have created. With a smile brighter than the heavens and a laugh like a wind chime caught in a summer breeze, Shigino Kisumi is someone who was made to be loved.

Makoto thinks that, but there’s no way he could possibly say it-- Not anymore. That’s just another regret of his. He was one of the ones who had realized too late just how incredible this person is. Makoto wishes he had noticed sooner, but he doesn’t know what he would have done, or how it would have changed their story.

He just hopes that the next person Kisumi finds is quicker to realize. Makoto wishes for Kisumi’s happiness, and he knows that he’ll continue to wish for it for as long as they know each other, even when their rejoined paths become separate again.

Makoto doesn’t realize he’s been spaced out until Kisumi starts speaking again.

“Haru… Deserves a better friend than me.”

“Huh?”

Kisumi smiles. Where his fingers are laced together, his knuckles have turned white from the grip he has on himself. “Makoto, can I tell you something?”

Watching him carefully, Makoto nods. “Of course.”

“Ah, yay… I was hoping you’d listen. You see, the truth is-- Earlier last year, not long after you and I broke up--” He pauses on that part, his smile wavering. “I hurt my knee back then, too. It was nothing serious-- The doctor told me to stay off of it for a while, and I tried to listen to him, but…”

He trails off, his gaze falling on the elevated leg.

“I just couldn’t keep myself from playing. It was getting closer to my graduation, and no matter what, I wanted to be scouted-- So I played and practiced and trained as hard as I could, even if my knee started to hurt. After a while, I grew numb to the pain. It didn’t bother me nearly as much as it had when I first got hurt, so I thought that maybe it had just fixed itself.”

Makoto listens with bated breath, not entirely sure where Kisumi is heading with this. He stays silent and doesn’t interrupt, even when Kisumi pauses.

“During stretches one day, I noticed it was actually hurting again, so I tried not playing for around a month. That break kind of helped me, and when I felt it was well enough to continue playing, I did. I became a regular for the team and everything was great~.”

“That’s good, but...” Makoto doesn’t finish his sentence.

“You’re probably thinking I was really irresponsible, right?”

He didn’t say it outloud, but Kisumi had seen right through him. He nods weakly, and Kisumi laughs.

“You’re right, actually. I don’t know what I was thinking, especially after learning about what happened to Sousuke…”

“Sousuke?” His name brings back a lot of memories for Makoto-- And they’re not exactly good ones, either, given the context of the conversation. “What about him? I mean, I haven’t seen him a lot since I graduated from high school, but Rin told me he’s doing pretty well now-- Um, he still can’t swim of course, but--”

His own words are like a slap to the face, and his heart falls to his stomach. A slight panic begins to rush through his veins, and he looks to Kisumi, praying that he’s wrong, silently begging the gods to _please_ , just let him be wrong about this--

The smile Kisumi wears dashes any hope he had left. It’s a far-off one, so different from how it had been earlier. He stares into Makoto’s eyes for a few passing seconds that feel more like an eternity, then speaks again.

“While Haru was out of the room, the doctor came and showed me the results of the X-ray. I landed on the bad knee-- Hard. If it hadn’t been hurt already, I would have never passed out from the pain I felt, but because it was…” He pauses, probably to collect himself. “It’s been ruined-- Shattered. He told me that it’d be a wonder if I’m ever able to walk on it again without support.”

“But--” Makoto swallows down a lump and stands up so he can lean over Kisumi, his heart racing. “But, you were acting like nothing was wrong-- It’s _ruined?_ ”

“I didn’t want to worry either of you. Especially not Haru.” Kisumi smiles up at Makoto as if he hasn’t said anything wrong-- As if there was nothing wrong in the first place. “And yes. Ruined. I’ll never be able to play basketball again. At least, not like I used to. Isn’t that a shame?”

He speaks with a light tone that’s devoid of any remorse. Makoto doesn’t know what’s more shocking-- This pleasant attitude, or the news that Kisumi’s career is over before it had ever been able to really start.

Knees weak, he sits back down in his chair. It’s like everything around him has gone still, and he draws in haggard breaths, his fingers curling into his palms until his nails dig painfully into his skin. Kisumi doesn’t say another word, though Makoto wishes he would, just for some kind of distraction.

Kisumi’s games-- He had only been to a few of them while they were together. On the court, Kisumi was a star. He demanded everyone’s attention, scored the most points, pushed himself so hard towards a limit that didn’t even exist. He laughed and cried and shone, and it was a beautiful sight to behold, one that always stole Makoto’s breath away and made him think, this is someone who will accomplish incredible things.

So for the same person to be sitting in a hospital bed right in front of him, stating that his dream is done for without even seeming to care--

It hurts.

It hurts, and Makoto doesn’t know what to do about it, so he settles for something pathetic.

Trembling, he reaches forward and takes Kisumi’s hand into his own, gently grasping him at first. Kisumi doesn’t flinch or pull away, instead watching in a stunned silence as Makoto holds his hand in both of his own.

“Kisumi,” he whispers, barely hearing it himself, despite how quiet the room is. There’s a terrible ringing in his ears as he presses his forehead against Kisumi’s knuckles. His skin is warm-- It always is. “Kisumi.”

“Makoto--”

A sob passes through Makoto’s lips, and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t hold it back. He leans forward until his elbows rest on the mattress, using the bed for support. “Kisumi,” he says again with a strained voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry…”

His grip on Kisumi’s hand tightens, the first few tears trailing down his cheeks and falling against the floor. They don’t make a noise, and another sob leaves him. His entire body shakes as he hides his face, and it takes everything he has to not start wailing then and there. His throat hurts. He feels sick to his stomach.

And just before he can begin to blame himself and apologize and say it’s all his fault, a gentle hand threads its fingers through his hair and pets him softly.

Kisumi laughs, but it’s weak, barely there. “What… Please don’t do this, Makoto--” His voices strains on the name. “Makoto, why are you crying for my sake?”

“Because,” Makoto breathes, only barely being able to lift his head, “I know that you won’t.”

His words startle Kisumi, and Makoto bites down hard on his lower lip, trying to hold back more tears that threaten to fall.

“I know that you won’t,” he says again, managing to stand. He doesn’t let go of Kisumi. “You never-- You never do. Not back then, either.”

He sounds like a broken record, and Kisumi watches him with some sort of unplacable fear in his eyes. Makoto finds the strength to let go, but as soon as he does, his arms are circling around Kisumi’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Kisumi doesn’t struggle against the embrace. Makoto can feel his body tremble.

“Kisumi, please--” One hand goes to the back of Kisumi’s head and cradles it. “Prove… Prove to me that you’re human-- At least do that. Why do you never--”

He doesn’t finish his sentence when he feels Kisumi’s arms wrap around him. Fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt and stretch it, as if they’re holding onto life itself. Kisumi’s face is buried in his shoulder, and he draws in a slow breath.

“Makoto, please don’t make me--” His voice is laced with pain and fear and panic, and it only makes Makoto hold him tighter. “ _Please_ ,” he begs. “Don’t make me realize just how pitiful I really am. Please, Makoto--”

Makoto shakes his head, letting tears fall freely now, and he grits his teeth together as he squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Kisumi.”

“Don’t apologize-- You... You haven’t done anything--”

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“I’m telling you to stop--”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Makoto--”

“Please let me back into your life. Please let me be with you through this.”

“ _Makoto._ ” Kisumi pushes against his chest with one hand, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes and a bleeding lower lip. “Do you even hear yourself? Think about what you’re saying-- You’re just being rash again, just like you were back then-- Please, just _think_ about this-- Just like when you accepted me--”

“This is different--”

“It’s not!” Kisumi pushes him away again, this time with more force, but it isn’t much. His hands shake violently, and he covers his face and curls in on himself. “Please stop this. Don’t pity me-- I don’t deserve it. I don’t.” He draws in a gasping breath, and Makoto wants nothing more than to kiss it away. “I don’t want to ruin your respectable life. Not again-- So please, I’m _begging_ you--”

“Kisumi.” His sobs haven’t stopped, and he isn’t sure when they will. His voice barely holds any strength within it. “Kisumi, I want to stay by your side.”

“Please don’t say this--”

“I lo--”

Kisumi sucks in through his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. “Makoto!” He’s only barely able to say his name, and it passes through his lips over and over again in quiet sobs. “Makoto, Makoto…”

He’s never seen Kisumi this terrified before. He finally listens to Kisumi’s pleas and stays silent, but he still leans forward, hugs Kisumi’s head to his chest, and rocks him gently. He swallows down an ache and his lower lip trembles, covered with the taste of salt water.

They stay like that for a long time, and every so often, Kisumi breaks the silence with cries of, “What have I done, what have I done…”

For the week that follows, he visits Kisumi every single day after work is over. He tries to put on a happy smile for the kids and his coworkers, but it’s obvious to them that something is off. His boss eventually pulls him aside and he’s given the time off that he says he needs.

The day after that, he meets up with his girlfriend, and she looks at him with blatant worry. He bows his head to her, apologizes, and says that he can’t continue what they have. He can’t see her face when he says that, but a soft hand touches his shoulder and prompts him to look up so he can see her smile. She accepts the outcome with tears in her eyes, and he thanks her once, having to hold back from thanking her again and again.

The door that leads into Kisumi’s hospital room opens slowly, and Makoto steps in with a smile. The scent of fresh flowers fill the air, and a few gifts sit near Kisumi’s bed, most of them from his teammates.

Kisumi snickers when he meets Makoto’s gaze and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Why do you look so happy?”

“I finally have a gift for you,” Makoto tells him, pulling up a chair. “It’s not amazing, though.”

“Honestly, nothing is as amazing as Haru’s gift, so don’t feel too bad.”

Makoto glimpses over at the pair of deep sea fish mascot socks sitting on the bedside table and laughs. “Right… Then, give me your hand.”

“Hm?” Kisumi does as he’s told, and Makoto smiles as he takes his hand, letting his own hover over it for a few passing moments. Impatient, Kisumi says, “Makoto, come on--” He stops when Makoto drops something into his palm.

When he looks at his hand, his eyes widen and his lips part in shock. Makoto watches with a bashful smile.

“It’s nothing new,” he says, his gaze going between Kisumi and the key. “But… I wanted to return this to you.”

“Makoto, I--”

“I’m sorry if this is sudden,” Makoto interrupts. “But… You’re free to use this when you want. Or, um… Please make a habit out of using it again. If you did… I’d be really happy.”

Kisumi is silent, his fingers curling around the key as he bites down on his lower lip. He looks to Makoto, and it’s obvious that he’s on the verge of tears, but he doesn’t let them spill. He tries to speak a few times, but no words come out, and he lowers his head.

“I want to prove myself to you,” Makoto tells him shyly. “I’d like to… Make up for these past three years. I think… I know I did them wrong, so please, Kisumi.” He takes Kisumi’s free hand and brings it to his lips, smiling against his knuckles. “From now on, rely on me.”

Kisumi still doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t pull his hand away either. Makoto waits, holding onto Kisumi’s fingers with a gentle grip.

Finally, Kisumi draws in a breath, then laughs as he meets Makoto’s gaze. His eyes are brimming with tears that threaten to fall, and his lips stretch out into a big, toothy grin. With a trembling voice, he says, “Then, from now on, please take care of me.”

***

Kisumi walks slowly. A limp from his left knee drags him down. Makoto has learned to match his pace, hardly ever walking more than a few steps ahead of Kisumi. Flat ground poses Kisumi no problem, and he can keep up easily. It took a while for him to get to this point, and Makoto couldn’t be prouder.

Hiking trails, however, are a different story. Kisumi doesn’t complain as they travel a bit of a ways up it, but from how he begins to lag behind, it’s obvious that his knee is starting to bother him. It isn’t always bad, but Kisumi also has a habit of overworking it.

So, Makoto pauses and waits for Kisumi to catch up with him. Unsurprisingly, Kisumi smiles, expertly masking any pain he surely must be feeling. Makoto returns it, then offers his hand, and Kisumi laughs as their fingers lace together.

“You’re too nice,” he says. “Almost like a prince, huh? Prince Makoto.”

“This isn’t princely,” Makoto snickers, squeezing Kisumi’s hand. “It’s love~.”

“Gross!”

“Gross?!”

Grinning, Kisumi raises Makoto’s knuckles to his lips and kisses them, his cheeks pink. “Gross~.”

Makoto rolls his eyes at the teasing, then returns the same treatment to Kisumi’s knuckles before pulling him along. Up the trail, they idle along, Makoto helping Kisumi when there’s a spot he needs to step up. Kisumi still doesn’t utter a single complaint, but Makoto can easily see how his face twists when he bends his knee too far.

It’s when it happens a third time that Makoto decides they’ve gone too far, and he prompts Kisumi to sit down on a log. Kisumi doesn’t argue with him and stretches his leg out, his shoulders relaxing as he leans his head back. He looks relieved, and Makoto takes the opportunity to take Kisumi’s backpack and dig out some of his pain medicine.

“I told you it would be too much,” he says, handing Kisumi two pills and a water bottle. “You need to tell me when it hurts.”

“It’ll hurt no matter what we do,” Kisumi replies, throwing back the medicine and taking a few gulps of water. He then pours some into his palm and rubs the back of his neck, sighing at how cool and refreshing it is. “Never using it isn’t good either, you know?”

“Yes, but hiking is a little…” Makoto trails off, knowing good and well that he can’t argue with Kisumi about this. He sighs and looks out into the trees. “Is this fun for you?”

“It is,” Kisumi answers easily, leaning against Makoto’s shoulder. “It’s peaceful. You know, Hayato likes hiking. We should take him sometime.”

Makoto wonders if a high schooler would really want to go on a trip like that with his brother and his brother’s boyfriend, but he still nods, entertaining the idea. “It’d be nice. I’ll carry you the entire way, though.”

Kisumi knocks his good knee against Makoto’s thigh. “You won’t~. I know I’m getting older, but you are too! Swimming won’t let you keep these muscles forever. And besides, I still have the energy of a middle schooler.”

“That much?”

“It’s pent up.”

“Ahh, I see.”

As they quiet down, Kisumi wraps an arm around Makoto’s waist, and Makoto does the same, rubbing circles into Kisumi’s back with his hand. He sometimes slips his fingers under the hem of Kisumi’s shirt to feel his warmth, and all is peaceful. They take their time to enjoy it before heading back to the car.

“I wonder if the mechanic is there yet?” Kisumi murmurs, closing his eyes. “I like it right here, though.”

“Me too, but--”

“I know, I know~. If we take any longer, your family will be angry with us~.” Snorting, Kisumi looks at Makoto. “Is Ren bringing his girlfriend?”

“Probably not… They haven’t been dating that long.”

“And what about Ran?”

“What about her?”

“Is she bringing anyone special this time?”

Makoto grimaces at the idea, but quickly shakes his head. “No. She said herself that she’s already married to swimming.”

“She takes after Haru~.”

“How could she take after Haru?” The thought makes Makoto smile, and he pinches Kisumi’s side. “Isn’t my little sister amazing, though?”

Nodding, Kisumi returns the pinch with a little more force. “She is~. Didn’t she say last year that she plans on going pro when she’s out of her university?”

“That’s right.” The very idea makes Makoto brighten up, and he gives a short, proud laugh. “She’s already decided that her goals is the Olympics. Last time I talked to Mom, she told me that Ran’s coach is already positive that she’ll be able to make it there someday.”

“Wow~. Haru has been helping her with her training, right?”

“Mmhm. He’s been a big help, but he said that she’s an easy student. It’s probably because they’ve known each other for so long, right?”

“Probably~.” With his free hand, Kisumi grabs Makoto’s cheek and tugs at his skin with a snicker. “Look at you! You just can’t stop gushing! What a proud big brother!”

Makoto huffs and swats Kisumi’s hand away. “Of course I am. And you gush about Hayato all the time! I can do it a little myself.”

“Of course~.” Kisumi grins, then silently buries his face into Makoto’s neck. The hand Makoto has on Kisumi’s back slides up to pet his hair. He feels Kisumi’s lips move against his throat. “You’re sweaty.”

“It’s hot out--”

“Do you regret it?”

“Being sweaty?”

Kisumi breathes out a laugh and shakes his head. “No, not that.” His words are muffled by Makoto’s neck. “Do you regret not following a different path, is what I mean.”

Surprised by the question, Makoto stops petting Kisumi and pulls away from him. “I don’t understand.”

Kisumi looks off to the side and drums his fingers against his thigh, lips pursed. “It’s just,” he starts, “sometimes, you… There are a lot of things. Like when you watch Rin and Haru’s races-- You’re happy for them, but then you get this look on your face and you seem… Sad.”

Makoto knits his brows together and leans in a little closer. “Sad?”

“And then, sometimes, whenever you look at the kids at the swimming club, you…” He trails off. “No… It just… It makes me wonder if you regret this. Where you are now, I mean. If you had gone on to become a professional, would you have been happier?” He looks to Makoto with a serious expression. “Are you happy right now?”

Stunned, all Makoto can do is stare at Kisumi, wide-eyed and horribly confused. It’s honestly the last thing he ever expected Kisumi to ask about, and he’s at a loss for words. He tries to gather his thoughts and give an answer, but Kisumi’s phone ringing prevents him.

“The mechanic,” Kisumi says quietly before answering. “Hello~. Ah, you’re at the car? We’ll be right there! Just give us around fifteen minutes, okay? Mmhm, thank you~.” He ends the call and his prior smile returns. “Let’s go back. He’ll probably know what’s wrong by the time we get there, yeah?”

Grabbing his backpack off the ground, Kisumi stands and offers his hand to Makoto. It’s a few moments before Makoto grabs it, and he stands slowly, following along as Kisumi begins to lead him back down the trail. Kisumi doesn’t mention their discussion the entire way back. Makoto decides to drop it for now.

When they approach the car, Kisumi lets go of Makoto’s hand, and they both greet the mechanic with bowed heads and smiles.

“Sorry for taking our time,” Kisumi says. “Thank you for coming all the way out here, though. We could have been stranded~.”

“It’s no problem,” the mechanic laughs, waving the comment off. He then looks to the car, hands on his hips and lips pursed. “But, you see, one of the parts in the engine has broken. The--”

“Ah.” Kisumi lifts his hand up. “Sorry to interrupt, but neither of us understand that kind of thing, so you don’t have to get too detailed.”

The mechanic rubs the back of his neck and nods. “Basically, part of it is broken, but I can fix it back at the shop-- Uh, it wouldn’t take too long to do, but I do have other customers, so…”

“So we’ll need to find a hotel,” Kisumi sighs, looking to Makoto. “Do you think we can still get one back in Kyoto? Though I don’t really want to drive for an hour back.”

Makoto doesn’t exactly want to either, and he scratches his cheek in thought. “Unless there’s somewhere available in the next town--”

“You boys have nowhere to stay?” the mechanic interrupts, prompting them both to look at him. He grins, then slaps his hands down on their shoulders. “Well, that ain’t a problem! We’ve got a room at my place, so how about you stay there for the night?”

“We really couldn’t impose--” Makoto tries to say, but the squeeze the mechanic gives him keeps him from continuing.

“Who’s imposing? Consider it my apology for not being able to get you fixed up before the day is over.”

Though he’s terribly thankful for the hospitality, he stills feels unsure. He glances to his side, and if the smile Kisumi is wearing is anything to go by, he knows the decision has already been made. Just another adventure for them, he supposes.

Looking to the mechanic, Makoto bows his head politely. “Then, we’ll be in your care.”

***

Laying against the floor, Kisumi’s tilts his head back with eyes closed. He breathes in slowly, deeply, and his fingers sometimes curl into his palms and he winces. When Makoto asks if he’s alright, he says to keep going, that he’s fine. Makoto, unsure, does as he’s told and settles himself between Kisumi’s thighs.

Then, Kisumi hisses and sits up on his elbows with a displeased look. “Okay, can we stop for the day?”

“We can’t,” Makoto says, slowly bending Kisumi’s leg before straightening it out again. “I’m trying to be gentle here. You know the doctor would be angry if you skip even one day of this.”

Kisumi heaves out a sigh and flops against the floor again, lower lip jutted out. “It still kind of hurts, though.”

“This is to make sure it stops hurting.”

“You say that like I don’t know~.” With his free foot, Kisumi jabs his heel into Makoto’s side, laughing when Makoto flinches. “But, you know what?”

“What…”

“This-- Ow, ow~.” Kisumi’s eyes squeeze shut as his knee is bent back against his chest. “That’s too far.”

Makoto slowly straightens the leg out again. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that this--” He gestures loosely to Makoto sitting between his legs. “Is a pretty nice view, huh?”

“Hmm.”

“You could sound a little more excited.”

Smiling down at him, Makoto bends Kisumi’s leg again and holds it in that position for a few moments. “I’m excited.”

“You’re not,” Kisumi sighs, resting his head on his pillow. “I want to fuck.”

Makoto purses his lips at the vulgarity. “We did it last week.”

“A week is a long time.”

“Is it?”

“Seriously, can’t you be a little more interested?”

Makoto laughs and pats Kisumi’s stomach, then continues with the stretches, figuring that going for a few more minutes will suffice for the day.

“Do you think it’s normal?” Kisumi asks as his leg is bent.

“What?”

“For it to still be hurting after a year, I mean.”

Makoto hums, then nods. “Yes, probably. You tore it up pretty badly, you know.”

Pouting, Kisumi turns his head to the side.

Almost a year has passed since the injury. A surgery had to be performed, and it still shows in the fading scar that lines Kisumi’s leg. For a long time afterwards, Kisumi wasn’t able to walk on his own, and he still has trouble, especially during winter when his joints lock up and make his bones ache.

Most of the time, he doesn’t make his pain obvious, easily laughing it off and joking about how he’s already getting old. It’s hard for Makoto to laugh with him.

Rather, each day, right now, he looks at Kisumi, who does these stretches or sits with his leg propped up on a pillow, and he thinks of the man who used to dominate the court, and the boy who constantly tried to coerce his friends into joining the basketball club with him. It hurts, but then Kisumi smiles at him, and Makoto is able to forget for a bit.

There are days that it’s not so easy, though. He’ll find Kisumi’s eyes rimmed with red, and he looks more tired than usual, and Makoto is reminded of just how long it will take for the emotional wound to heal, if it ever does. Words do nothing to help, so he never says anything, though he yearns to with an aching heart.

It’s very seldom that it gets to this point, but Makoto wonders if he’ll ever see Kisumi truly cry for his lost dreams.

Stretching Kisumi’s leg out, Makoto catches a few tears at the corners of Kisumi’s eyes, and he offers a quiet apology. “We’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true?”

Kisumi huffs again for what seems to be the twentieth time that session and says, “Then distract me~. Talk a little more.”

Rolling his eyes, Makoto bends Kisumi’s leg back. “Okay then. Sousuke left us a voicemail today.”

Kisumi’s body grows tense at the mention of his friend’s name, his bored look turning into one of despair. “And?”

“And he says he’ll probably be visiting next week.”

Kisumi groans at the new information and throws an arm across his eyes. “I wish I could be excited, but he’s just going to throw all that therapy knowledge on me again, I know it. Makoto, just don’t let him in~.”

Makoto smiles, thinking back to the first time it had happened. One summer morning, Sousuke had appeared at their door unannounced, arms folded over his chest and his brows furrowed more than usual. Kisumi had been happy to see him, but it wasn’t the case by the time their conversation had finished.

Makoto didn’t listen too much to what the two childhood friends were saying, but once done, it was obvious that Kisumi had gotten a real earful. There were periodic visits from Sousuke after that, and Makoto had to go pick their friend up from darker parts of Tokyo more than once.

“He’s just looking out for you,” Makoto says. “Besides, he studied this stuff, so he knows what he’s talking about. He’s been through a lot of the same as you.”

Knowing it’s a losing battle, Kisumi sighs and nods. “I know it, I know… But between him and rehab, it’s always something, you know?”

Makoto feels as if he understands that the best. The past year hasn’t been easy for either of them. Emotional and physical problems took their toll as the months moved along, and the first real problem they had faced was the fact that their apartment was on an upper floor.

On the day Kisumi was released from the hospital, Makoto had put him on his back and carried him up the flight of stairs. Kisumi kept saying that it was embarrassing, and even if it was, that hadn’t stopped him from burying his face into Makoto’s neck, a shy smile forming.

Work hadn’t been much help, either. Between that and taking care of Kisumi, Makoto found himself exhausted most of the time, something that Kisumi had taken notice of. He tried to convince Makoto to stop worrying over him so much and to worry a little more about himself. At first, Makoto was against it, but his reasoning slowly began to wane the more Kisumi scolded him, and he was able to land shifts that wouldn’t interfere with his care for Kisumi.

It was their luck that Haruka was a giving person and volunteered to help here and there, too. Despite his own busy schedule, he still made time to visit, and it got to a point where Makoto just had a third spare key to the apartment made. Unexpected visits became the norm between their two very untalkative friends, but Kisumi said it just made the apartment more lively.

Makoto’s phone vibrating in his back pocket distracts him for a moment, and he gives Kisumi a minute to wiggle around and let his leg relax, though he’s quick to tell him that they’re not actually done.

Not listening to Kisumi’s whine of disapproval, Makoto checks his phone, reading the message from Haruka. Without answering, he sets it aside and returns to focusing on Kisumi.

“What did it say?”

“Haru asked if we wanted to go out for dinner together--”

“For real? Let’s go, let’s go!”

Makoto frowns. “I can just make something here--”

“No way.” Kisumi props himself up a little bit on his elbows. “Legs are meant to be used, even if one of mine is a little damaged~.” He grinds his free heel into Makoto’s ribcage, knowing good and well that Makoto can’t escape. “Makoto, let’s go~.”

“Kisumi, really…”

A fighting spirit, Makoto thinks. That’s what Kisumi has always been, and it’s what his doctor had called him too. When the injury first happened, Kisumi had been told that walking without support was most likely a far off dream, and yet, come the new year, he was limping around like he hadn’t ruined his knee forever.

Makoto spends each day admiring Kisumi as he moves about the apartment, and whenever Kisumi catches him staring, he’s teased, but he easily notices the blushes that dust Kisumi’s cheeks. He can’t help but think that this is so much different from before, from those first two years spent together.

He thinks Kisumi is happier.

“Kisumi,” he says firmly, bending Kisumi’s leg back. “What can I do to settle you?”

“Ending the stretches early.”

“Other than that.”

Drawing his lips into a thin line, Kisumi leans his head back and hums, mulling over the question before deciding on, “A kiss.”

Makoto flushes and glances off to the side. “Why are you like this…”

Kisumi laughs and sits up, cupping Makoto’s cheeks in his hands and pulling his face closer until their lips press together. The kiss lingers, and when Kisumi pulls back, he grins and says, “Because I know you’ll put up with me?”

“That’s unfair--”

“Makoto.” With his voice tender and warm, Kisumi bumps their foreheads together, his eyes filled with an emotion that Makoto has come to understand well. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Thank you for everything. I love you.”

Makoto’s heart stutters at Kisumi’s words, but he returns the smile and steals another quick kiss. “I love you, too. But seriously, give me a break sometimes.”

Kisumi giggles and lays back against the floor, closing his eyes as he stays quiet for the duration of the stretches.

_I love you_. It’s still a little embarrassing, at least for Makoto. There’s a lingering feeling of guilt that Makoto can’t seem to work past, one that berates him for not having said it before. For the past year, he’s tried to say it often as he can-- And the first time he really did was one night when they lay in their futons, his fingers brushing through Kisumi’s hair.

It had been quiet, and he hadn’t even entirely meant for Kisumi to hear him. It was more like he had been saying it for his own sake, but when Kisumi’s eyes popped open to give him a surprised stare, he realized this really was something he should have said long ago. He smiled at Kisumi, kissed his forehead, and wished him a goodnight.

Kisumi must have been stunned, because it wasn’t until the next morning that he got a rather frantic response. Kisumi held Makoto’s face in his hands, planted a sloppy kiss that tasted of toothpaste on his lips, and breathed out, “I love you too!”

It wasn’t the first time Kisumi had said it, but something about his tone of voice, something about their entire situation, made Makoto feel such a brilliant happiness that he ended up crying right there on the spot.

Kisumi still brings it up even now, though Makoto really wishes he wouldn’t.

Checking his phone timer, Makoto hums and turns it off, releasing Kisumi from his daily stretches with a smile. “And done.”

Kisumi gives a tired cheer and begins to get up, but his phone ringing by his side gets both of their attentions. Kisumi grabs for it, mumbling, “Who could it be--”

He lifts the phone to his face and squints to read the name, and his smile immediately falls away. He doesn’t waste a second in answering.

“Mom? Is this--”

Even from where Makoto sits, he can hear someone crying on the other end. Kisumi is silent for a few passing seconds before he licks his lips and speaks.

“Hayato?” he asks softly. Makoto’s heart jumps at the name. “Hayato, is it you--”

He’s interrupted by another loud sob that Makoto can hear clearly. Sitting up, Kisumi pulls himself out of Makoto’s grasp and moves to stand.

“Hayato, why are you crying-- No, no, calm down. Breathe for me, okay? Tell me what’s wrong.” There’s a pause as Kisumi’s frown deepens. “Dad? Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Another pause. “Did Mom not say anything to you?”

“Kisumi--” Makoto stands up, mouthing his question. “ _What’s wrong?_ ”

Kisumi shushes him and returns to listening to the sobbing boy. “Hayato, I can’t understand you-- Calm down, I’m listening, okay?” He heads for his laptop and opens up a browser. Makoto watches as he looks up flights to Iwatobi, but before he can click on any link, his fingers freeze up. “Hayato,” he says softly. “Does Mom know that you’re calling me right now?”

The silence that follows tells Makoto the answer without him having to hear it. All Kisumi does is nod to himself, then continue searching for flights.

“Hayato, no more crying, okay? Call Mom and see if she’s alright. I’ll try and be there by tomorrow, okay? The latest will be Thursday, but I’ll call you back and tell you for sure.” He grunts a few times as Hayato speaks. “Okay, got it-- Don’t worry, okay? Your big brother will handle things, so wait for me. Mm, yeah. I love you, too.”

He hangs up right after, then heaves out a weary sigh as he holds his head in his hands, slumping over his laptop. Makoto sits next to him and rubs his back, worriedly leaning in closer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Hayato-kun sounded upset.”

“Apparently Dad collapsed,” Kisumi answers. “Hayato doesn’t know from what. Mom didn’t tell him and had to go in the ambulance with Dad. Honestly…” He sighs again, then lifts his head so he can continue looking for a reasonably priced flight. “He’s one of those businessman types. He used to overwork himself quite a bit when Hayato was first born.”

“Ah… Is that right?”

“Mmhm. I thought he was dumb for doing it, but I was just a kid back then. I know now that it was in the best interest for our family, but…” He wears a weak smile. “I did miss him-- He was gone pretty often.”

“Anyone would,” Makoto murmurs, wrapping his arm around Kisumi’s waist. “You’ll be going to Iwatobi?”

“That’s right… I should be there, even if it’s something simple. Mom will need help watching after Hayato, after all.”

Makoto nods as Kisumi types and clicks away on the computer. Even after all this time has passed, the dedication Kisumi has to Hayato is incredible. Makoto thinks that, even if the world were ending, Kisumi would still be happy just having Hayato by his side.

Pursing his lips, Makoto leans his head against Kisumi’s. “Book two tickets.”

“Huh?” Kisumi looks to him, bewildered. “Makoto, you don’t need to-- This is a family situation, so you shouldn’t bother yourself with it--”

“I’m bothering myself with you,” Makoto says firmly, smiling. “I’ll take off work for a week so we can know what’s wrong-- But I’ll stay with my parents in the meantime.”

“Your parents…” Kisumi trails off. Makoto knows exactly what he’s thinking.

“I haven’t told them yet,” he admits, lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry. This time, though… I won’t let them get to me so easily.”

Kisumi wraps an arm around Makoto’s shoulders and bumps their foreheads together. “Don’t make me be the reason your relationship with them is ruined--”

“It won’t be you. It’ll be all me, because this is my decision.” Makoto steals a quick kiss. “Okay?”

Kisumi is still reluctant to agree, but he eventually nods, steals the kiss the back, then returns to his laptop. Makoto leaves him be, scooting away and stating that he’ll go and start dinner for them. Kisumi sends him off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

By some stroke of luck, they’re able to fly out of Tokyo the next day, landing within two hours of their takeoff. They take a cab right to Kisumi’s doorstep, both getting out after paying the fare. Makoto realizes that his home is just a train ride away. They stand in silence together.

“Hey,” Makoto murmurs, taking Kisumi’s gloved hand in his own, “I’ll go home, so do what you need to, okay? Just call me later tonight.”

Kisumi squeezes Makoto’s hand, not looking at him, his gaze set on the home he had lived in since he was a child. He hesitates, then breathes out, a puff of white air leaving his lips. “I will,” he says, turning to Makoto so he can place a kiss on his cheek. “I hope your family isn’t too surprised by your visit.”

“Mm… They shouldn’t be, but… I’ll explain everything properly.”

If he were to say he wasn’t nervous, he’d be a liar. He can’t know how his parents will react, but he’s already prepared himself for the worst. He’s standing on his own two feet now. Him and Kisumi will be fine, regardless of whatever happens.

Before he leaves, he wraps his arms around Kisumi and holds him, cradling the back of his head. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kisumi reassures him, melting into the hug with a content smile.

Makoto leaves from there, heading for his home with a heavy heart. He knows that Kisumi is a capable person, far more than he is himself, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying himself sick. There’s no telling what kind of reaction Kisumi’s parents will have. He’ll just have to wait and find out later.

The surprised looks on his family’s faces make Makoto laugh, and he steps into his home with a small apology. His mother tells him to not fret, and she hugs him because she’s happy he’s there. His trips to Iwatobi have grown less frequent, but the real reason why is hidden under the guise of being busy with work.

“Onii-chan, why are you visiting? We thought you wouldn’t be here until Ren and I graduate!” Ran sits beside Makoto with a huge smile, and Makoto pats her head with a laugh.

“I’ll be here then, too.” It’s weird to think that his two little siblings will be leaving high school soon-- Time passes too quickly. “I had other reasons to come.”

“What are those?” his mother asks, setting a mug of hot cocoa in front of him. She sits next to her husband, both pairs of eyes filled with curiosity. “Good reasons?”

“Not exactly.” He rubs the back of his neck, then takes a sip of the hot chocolate, giving himself time to gather his thoughts. There’s no point in beating around the bush, because he knows exactly what he’s here for.

He puts the mug back on the table and folds his hands in his lap, lowering his head. His family is silent until his father gently calls out to him.

“Makoto?”

“Sorry,” he answers. “I’m here with Kisumi.”

As soon as it’s out, everyone is quietly stunned. All four of them stare at him with wide eyes, and he doesn’t know where he should be looking, so he sets his gaze on his father.

“I should explain,” he continues, glad that no one has deterred him yet. “It’s been a few years since Kisumi and his family have spoken. His little brother called last night to tell him that their father collapsed, so Kisumi went there to see what’s going on exactly.”

His parents share a look, then his mother speaks. “Has he figured out what happened yet?”

“He’s going to call me later tonight.”

“Ah…” She looks to her husband, brows knitted, and Makoto can easily tell what they’re both thinking.

His father gives a small nod, then turns to Makoto. “And--”

“Him and I are together,” Makoto quickly interrupts, bowing his head to his parents. “Back when I first brought him here, I really did listen to you both. Him and I were apart for over a year after that-- I even had a girlfriend for a bit, but she wasn’t…” She wasn’t Kisumi, is what he wants to say. “Last January, he hurt himself. Badly.”

“Hurt himself?” Ran repeats, her tone laced with worry. “How?”

“He shattered his kneecap,” Makoto tells her, watching their expressions shift into disarray. “It’s only been recently that he’s been able to walk again. When he was injured, I hadn’t spoken to him since we broke up, but seeing him again…”

He trails off, his lips drawing into a thin line as he sits straight again.

“I don’t know how to describe how I felt. I’m not very good at this-- Explaining myself, I mean. You all know that I’m kind of awkward sometimes, but--” Swallowing back any reluctance he feels, Makoto bows his head again, eyes tightly shut. “I’m sorry. I’m in love with him. I know that you want me to lead a respectable life, but I truly believe that I can lead a life like that by his side.”

“Makoto--”

“So I’m sorry, Mom, Dad.” He bites down on his lower lip. There’s a strange confidence lingering within him, and fear wants to overtake it, but he won’t let it this time. “I have no intention of leaving Kisumi. Not again. If you want to disown me, or kick me out, or anything… I won’t fight you.”

The air around them is tense, and Makoto’s stomach is in his throat. A cold sweat breaks out on his neck and back. He doesn’t dare lift his head, not wanting to see what kind of expressions his parents are wearing. The last thing he wants is to make his mother cry again-- What kind of son would he be then?

Someone stands, but he doesn’t know who until a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. Turning his head slightly, he recognizes Ran’s long brown hair as she buries her face into his shoulder. He sits up a bit, and her hold on him tightens.

“Onii-chan, why are you apologizing?” she asks quietly. “What have you done wrong?”

“Ran…”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong!” Ren cuts in, more distraught than Ran, tears swimming in his eyes as he moves to latch onto Makoto as well. The two of them are heavier than they used to be, and it makes Makoto’s eyes begin to sting. “He hasn’t done anything wrong…”

Lower lip trembling, Makoto stands so he can pull them both into his arms, and they hang onto him like they haven’t done in years. Petting both of their heads with a weak smile, Makoto finally looks to his parents, silently apologizing for making Ran and Ren cry.

They take in the scene quietly, and Makoto can see that his mother is on the verge of tears again. His heart falls, but it’s a moment later that he realizes that neither of them are looking at him with disdain or pity.

“Are you sure about this?” his mother asks softly. “Makoto, it won’t be easy--”

“I’m more sure than I’ve ever been,” Makoto tells her.

“And your own safety?” his father says.

Makoto’s heart begins to flutter. “I’m fine, really. Him and I both are.”

“Then…” His father adjusts his glasses. “Does Shigino-kun treat you well?”

Makoto blurts out his answer. “He does! Better than anyone has ever treated me-- I mean, aside from Mom, but--”

He’s interrupted by his mother’s laughter. “Okay,” she says, waving her hand to calm him down. “Okay. You don’t need to convince us, Makoto.”

Confused, he begins to say, “But two years ago--”

“Do you want us to be honest?” his father asks. “Really, we still don’t know what to think. It’s just…” He trails off, then stands, walking over to Makoto and placing a hand down upon his head. “We were thinking that you’ve become a fine man already.”

“A fine man?”

“That’s right,” his mother agrees, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s like your father said… There’s a lot we don’t understand still, and we worry for your safety, and if your future is secure, but…” She smiles to herself. “We’ll try, Makoto. We can’t promise that we’ll be able to grow properly, and I’m sure there are times where we’ll make you upset, but the idea of losing you because of this is something we can’t handle.”

Ran sniffles into Makoto’s shirt. “It’s because we all love you…”

“More than anything,” Ren adds, though his words are muffled.

“It’s like they said,” his father laughs as he returns to his wife’s side. “Makoto is the most important person to all of us. And, besides, if we can’t convince you once, we can’t convince you again--”

He coughs when he realizes what he’s saying might be a little off.

“No, uh… Gay--” He struggles around the word, then smiles. “Gay or not, you’re still Makoto.”

Listening to all of them, Makoto feels dizzy and confused and at a loss for words. His hold on Ran and Ren tightens, and he lowers his head, the familiar burn of approaching tears worsening. He does what he can to hold them back, but the relief is so intense that he isn’t able to keep a few from rolling down his cheeks.

“Makoto,” his mother calls in her soft tone, “we’re sorry in advance for anything wrong we might say.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he croaks out. “It’s not your fault you don’t understand-- Just…” He draws in a deep breath. “ _Thank you._ ”

“And we’re sorry for the grief we must have caused you.” As his father says that, he bows his head to Makoto, and his mother follows suit. “We’ve reflected on our words since then. We know this isn’t much of an apology--”

“It’s enough,” Makoto tells him, pulling away from Ran and Ren so he can go embrace his parents instead. “It’s enough-- Thank you. I’m really happy.”

His parents return his hug with smiles, his mother pulling away first. She fans herself then laughs. “Well,” she starts, “since we’ve talked about this properly, shall we start on dinner?”

“S-Sounds good,” Makoto says, wiping at his own eyes. “Thanks.”

The dinner they have that night is normal, for the most part. Ran and Ren tell Makoto all about what’s been going on with them in their high school careers, though he’s already heard mostly everything. He knows they’re doing it just to make sure he keeps smiling, but he has no trouble doing so. He still listens to them, proud over what they’ve accomplished.

It’s only when his family tries to ask about Kisumi that he begins to shy away. He can answer questions about the knee injury-- And each answer he gives puts a solemn look on each of their faces. He knows how they feel, but he does what he can to reassure them that Kisumi has taken the entire situation smoothly.

When they ask about the couple’s daily life, though, Makoto can hardly answer without getting too embarrassed. Ran is the one to point out the blush in his cheeks, and it’s impossible to hide it.

As they’re cleaning up and getting ready to do dishes, his phone begins to ring, Kisumi’s name flashing on the screen. He hesitates before answering, looking to his family to make sure it’s alright, and they wave him off, but not before his father says, “Tell Shigino-kun to come here in the morning.”

Makoto nods, then picks the call up. “Kisumi,” he greets, moving to a different room. “How is everything?”

“Ahh…” Kisumi sighs. “Ah, well, things are fine here-- Dad collapsed from exhaustion, so it’s nothing serious. When I told Mom that Hayato had called me crying about it, she tried to scold him, but I got onto her for not being more direct with him.”

“Is that right?” Makoto smiles as he sits down on the sofa. “How did your mom react to your visit?”

“She was… Shocked. Like, she couldn’t say anything when she saw me. We kind of just… Stood in the doorway, but then there was this _big_ cry from behind her, and Hayato comes bolting out and latches onto me!”

“He must have been excited~.”

“He was, but you couldn’t tell from how much he was crying! He actually ended up staining my shirt with snot… Which is a step up from that time he vomited on me when he was a baby.”

“Ran and Ren did the same to me.”

“That’s just how babies are, right?” Kisumi laughs. “But, um… I spoke to just Mom for a bit. Like I said, Dad isn’t in bad condition, so I’m going to the hospital tomorrow to see him, and he can come home in a few days.” He pauses for a moment. “Mom said that… She was glad I came.”

Makoto’s smile falls. “Did she?”

“She said that she was glad that, despite everything, I still took the responsibility to come home. But, you know, I just can’t abandon my family so easily. It’s impossible for me, so of course I’d come home when something like this happens…”

“You’re a good son,” Makoto tells him, making Kisumi laugh again.

“I’m not that great-- She asked about my life right now. I ended up telling her everything. About university, and how I was able to go pro for a bit, about the knee injury-- She cried when I told her, and I didn’t know what to do. She hardly ever cries…” Another pause, a bit longer this time. “To see her cry for me… It made me happy.”

Makoto nods, though Kisumi can’t see. Where their family left off… To be able to hold a long conversation with his mother must mean the world to him. “And?”

“And I told her about you. She was kind of… Reluctant to talk about it, but I told her that it’s not something I’ll apologize for. Makoto, I sounded so cool~.”

“I bet.”

“So she decided to listen, and when I told her that you’d been caring for me this entire time, she said that you sound like a good man. I’m not too sure about you two meeting yet--”

“Yeah, let’s not,” Makoto laughs, feeling his stomach curl at the very idea. “I’m not ready for that.”

“I thought so~. But, listen to this-- When I go to see my dad, we’re all going to talk about what happened. Mom says she wants us to work through this, and I want to, too. To be able to be with them again would be…” He trails off, and Makoto can hear his smile. “And, Makoto~.”

“Hmm?”

“You wouldn’t believe how much Hayato has grown! He’s twelve now, you know?” Kisumi laughs, but Makoto notices that there’s something off. He doesn’t interrupt. “And he’s still swimming~. When I told him I live with you, he was really excited!”

“He remembers me?”

“Of course he does! You’re hard to forget, Makoto.” He laughs again. “But he’s gotten so big. I mean, he’s still small, but… It’s amazing how time can really change a person, right? When he stopped crying, he had such a big smile-- No one has smiled at me like that in years. I was just so happy--”

Kisumi speaks fast, but he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. He falls silent. Makoto expected this, and he smiles to himself.

“Kisumi,” he says softly, “you can cry, too.”

There a shuddery gasp on the other end. “I… I don’t need to, I’m _not_ \--” His body betrays him, his words slurring together into quiet sobs that he’s surely trying to hide. “I’m really…”

“You’re happy, right?”

“I’m happy,” Kisumi rasps, trying to catch his breath and stay quiet. “I’m happy.”

The only thing Makoto can do for Kisumi in that moment is listen to him, though he wishes more than anything that he could be there by his side. It’s not often that Kisumi cries-- He’s more concerned with his outward appearance, and he never wants to worry or bother anyone. Makoto knows that, so he doesn’t push him.

He just hopes that, as the years go by and they change and become more entangled in each other, he can become the person that Kisumi has no trouble crying for.

When Kisumi quiets down after a few minutes, Makoto speaks to him again. “Come over in the morning.”

“Huh?” Kisumi coughs to clear his throat, but his voice is hoarse. “But your parents--”

“They want you to come over, so will you?” Kisumi noticeably hesitates. Makoto doesn’t blame him for that, due to what happened last time. “If you don’t want to--”

“I will,” Kisumi says. “I want to. I’ll be there in the morning, so… Wait for me.”

The corners of Makoto’s lips curl up. “Yes.”

When Kisumi arrives the next day, he stands outside with Makoto for a bit, doing their best to ignore the cold that cuts at their skin and paints their cheeks red. He blows into his hands, rubs them together, and breathes deeply.

He’s fidgety, and Makoto can tell he’s preparing himself for whatever happens next. Smiling, Makoto brings him in for a short hug and rubs his arm in what he hopes is a comforting manner. Kisumi is able to relax just a little bit, but even through his heavy winter coat, Makoto can still feel his body tremble.

When he’s finally ready, he looks to Makoto, who silently encourages him, then nods and enters the home.

They head for the dining room, where everyone sits at the table enjoying breakfast together. Makoto heads for his seat, but Kisumi hesitates in the doorway, his body stiff and his eyes on the floor. No one says a word, waiting to see who will speak first.

Finally, Kisumi opens his mouth, though he still doesn’t look at them. “Pardon the intrusion,” he mumbles, giving the family a short bow. He doesn’t budge an inch afterwards.

Makoto’s gaze darts over to his parents, and his heart flutters when his mother stands up. She approaches Kisumi and stares up at him, then takes his cold hands into her own.

“You’re freezing,” she says, squeezing them tightly. “Come sit down, won’t you?”

Kisumi stares right back at her with wide eyes, and then he looks to Makoto. Makoto grins and motions for him to speak, which makes Kisumi swallow back any uneasiness he feels.

“Tachibana-san,” he says, squeezing her hands in return as he leans down closer to her face. She takes a step back, but doesn’t let go, and Kisumi opens his mouth again to frantically speak his next words. “I-I’m home!”

“Oh?”

“ _Kisumi_ \--”

“Ah--” Kisumi immediately pulls away from her, wearing a bashful smile that Makoto doesn’t get to see often. “S-Sorry--”

“You’re home?” she repeats with a giggle. “I see, is that right? Well, in that case-- Welcome home, Kisumi-kun.”

The familiar use of his name makes his eyes brighten, and his shy smile grows into a broad, toothy grin as he goes to take a seat at the table beside Makoto. They share a look, and then Kisumi laughs and covers his face.

“I can’t believe I said that~.”

“Your face matches your hair!” Ran points out.

“Does it really?!”

Makoto ruffles the fluffy strands. “It does~.”

“How awful!”

Kisumi knocks against Makoto’s shoulder at the incessant teasing, and for the rest of that morning, he’s able to hold long conversations with each member of Makoto’s family. The home feels warm, inviting, and there’s not a moment where Makoto catches someone with a frown. It fills him with an indescribable joy.

When Kisumi leaves for a bit to go see his father, Makoto’s parents pat him on the back and tell him that he’s made a surprisingly good choice. Makoto ignores their choice use of words, and smiles from ear to ear.

It’s later in the evening when he’s finally alone with Kisumi again, and he holds him close, saving the discussion about the Shigino family for later. “They really do like you.”

“That’s a relief~.” Kisumi’s arms wrap around Makoto’s waist, and he grins at him. “Do _you_ like me?”

“I like you.”

“Do you love me?”

A warmth creeps up Makoto’s neck, but he still nods. “Mm, I love you.”

Kisumi cheers quietly, then laughs as he buries his face into Makoto’s neck. “I love you too~.” There’s a small pause. “If you really loved me, we won’t do the knee stretches tonight--”

“ _Kisumi_ \--”

Heaving out a sigh, Kisumi nuzzles Makoto. “Okay, okay. I lose.”

***

The mechanic’s home is quaint and perfect for his small family. After they’re dropped off at the home and he’s explained everything to his wife, they’re welcomed inside, and he tells them that he’s going off to his shop so he can fix their car right up. They thank him again, and then he’s off.

“Some people are so kind,” Kisumi laughs, sitting at the family table with the mechanic’s wife and mother. “We’re really so grateful to you for letting us stay here for the night.”

“Don’t worry--”

Two childish squeals ring out, making Makoto and Kisumi both turn their heads to the doorway. The children stare at them with wide, shining eyes-- They can’t be more than eight, from the looks of it.

“These misters are big!” chirps the little boy, his mother scrambling to hush him and make him apologize.

“Really big!” says the girl, going over to Makoto and grabbing his hand. “Wow! Papa isn’t this big!”

Their mother tries to apologize for them, but Kisumi just laughs and waves it off. “Don’t worry, him and I are both big brothers~. We can handle this.”

Saying that, he stands up and kneels in front of the kids, patting them both on their small heads. Makoto watches with a smile, leaning his chin into his palm.

“You two,” Kisumi says, “try to not make trouble for your mom, okay? How about you bother this uncle instead?”

“I can’t let them do that,” their mother says, but Kisumi shakes his head.

“It’s alright~. When we came in, I noticed you had a basketball hoop in your backyard, right?” He turns to the kids with a big grin. “Do you two like to play?”

“We do! But…”

“But?”

“We’re short and not really good.”

“Oh~.” Kisumi hums and rubs his chin, then stands straight. “Well then, I’ll teach you to be good, okay? This is my job, after all~.”

“Your job?” the grandmother repeats.

“I’m a basketball coach for a high school team back in Tokyo,” Kisumi explains, proudly putting his hands on his hips. “Why, with my guidance, I have no doubt we’ll be champions someday!”

The kids, mesmerized by his boasting and confidence, grab onto his hands and begin to drag him towards the backyard. “Uncle, teach us! Teach us!”

Laughing as he’s pulled along, Kisumi looks back to Makoto and throws him a wink, then follows the children outside. From where Makoto and the two women sit, they’re easily able to watch the trio outside play around, Kisumi adjusting the kid’s forms so they can shoot for the basket. Makoto follows Kisumi’s movements carefully, wanting to make sure he doesn’t hurt or strain himself.

He’s definitely energetic, though, which helps Makoto feel more at ease. When one of the kids gets the ball into the hoop, she cheers and latches onto Kisumi as if she’s known him her entire life-- That’s just how Kisumi works with people. He’ll draw them in and keep them there until they can leave satisfied.

It’s later in the day when the mechanic returns home, wiping sweat off his brow and telling them that it was a pretty minor fix. He gives them the bill, and they share a worried look.

“You see,” Kisumi mumbles, “that car is a rental, so…”

“Ah…” The mechanic rubs the back of his neck, then sighs. “Well. Since that’s the case, take that bill to the rental place you got it from and have them call me so we can discuss it.”

“Are you sure?” Makoto asks. “We’ve already bothered you enough--”

“Just accept the hospitality,” he laughs, patting them both on the shoulder. “In return, how about you two help with dinner?”

It’s probably the easiest task they could be given. Both agree, then thank him again before heading to the kitchen to help start. Tying a spare apron around his waist, Kisumi leans in close to the mother of the family, a devilish grin on his face.

“This guy here,” he says, not doing much to hide that he’s talking about Makoto, “he’s _really_ bad at cooking--”

Makoto flushes. “Kisumi!”

Laughter spreads through the kitchen, and after a bit of work and waiting, the family plus two all sit at the table, ready to enjoy their meal. The mother goes on about how much of a help Kisumi was, with both dinner and the children, but Kisumi dismisses the comments with a shake of the head and wave of the hand, saying that he’s glad to do anything he can to help.

The family asks questions about the two-- How old they are, what they do for a living. Makoto talks a little about his position as a swimming instructor, but most of the spotlight is given to Kisumi as he gushes about his team. Makoto thinks that, in a way, how he speaks of them is similar to how he speaks of Hayato.

“But, ya know, I was wondering,” the mechanic cuts in at one point. “What are you two doing outside of Tokyo? Travelling for Golden Week?”

“That’s right~. We’re heading to Iwatobi to see our family.”

“Are you brothers?” the mother asks, looking between them with a brow raised. “You don’t look alike.”

Makoto feels a shift in Kisumi’s comfort. His smile is stiff, and neither know how to answer her. Telling the truth could lead to having nowhere to sleep that night, and they don’t really want to face a bad ending here.

The family’s eyes are all on them, though. Setting his bowl down, Kisumi purses his lips and glances at Makoto, then looks back to the mother. “We’re not brothers.”

“Then cousins?”

“Not cousins either,” he laughs weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a large pause, and in that time, Makoto can feel his own comfort begin to wane as well. He doesn’t know what he should say, but letting Kisumi do all the talking is unfair, but he doesn’t want to do the wrong thing, either.

Finally, Kisumi speaks again. “We’re just good friends,” he lies smoothly. “Um, we’ve been friends since middle school, so--”

Makoto frowns visibly at the turn this conversation has taken, and under the table he squeezes Kisumi’s thigh. Kisumi looks at him with brows furrowed, and his eyes silently tell him, _‘Don’t say anything.’_

Lips drawn into a thin line, Makoto draws his hand back and returns to eating. The family seems to accept the explanation, and the conversation drifts elsewhere when Kisumi makes it.

They’re the ones who are assigned to doing dishes, mostly by Kisumi’s request, and they stand side by side in a stout silence.

It’s been a long time since they’ve had to lie about what they are. Their coworkers stopped asking years ago because they never got any answers, and all of their friends know by now, so in their minds, it stopped being an issue somewhere along the way.

It’s sad, Makoto thinks, that such kind people really could have a negative reaction. Makoto feels he doesn’t know that as well as Kisumi does, though.

“Kisumi,” he starts softly, “if you wanted to tell them, you could have.”

“And then what?” Kisumi replies. “Just hope for the best? I’m not the kind of person who can live like that, Makoto--”

“And you think I can?” Makoto asks, his head turning sharply to Kisumi. “I’m here, too. I’m part of this. It’s what _we_ have, not just--”

“Could you not start?” Kisumi hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “You still have other options, you know--”

“Options?” Makoto repeats, a little louder than intended. “What do you mean by that?”

Someone coughs from behind them and makes them both jump. They look to the little old woman, and Kisumi looks as if his heart is about to pop right out of his chest.

“Granny,” he breathes. “You surprised us.”

“Sorry about that,” she says, stepping further into the kitchen with a brow raised. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, nothing…”

She grunts, then brushes past them so she can get a bottle of water from the fridge. Silently, Kisumi and Makoto return to doing the dishes, delicate with the fragile glassware. They can feel her gaze on them, and it reaches a point where Kisumi turns to her with a nervous smile and asks, “Can we… Do you need us to do something?”

“How long have you two been friends?” she asks, not answering Kisumi’s question. It’s an innocent question, but Makoto and Kisumi both feel something hidden between the lines.

“Since middle school,” Kisumi slowly answers. She nods and waits, and Makoto feels compelled to answer as well.

“But we only became really close around… Eight years ago--”

“Eight years,” she repeats, putting a hand to her cheek. Her lips spread out into a smile and she nods approvingly. “My, that’s a long time, isn’t it? That’s wonderful.”

“Oh, uh…” Kisumi spares Makoto a glance, and Makoto shrugs a little bit. “Yeah, it’s pretty long-- Um, why did you want to know, Granny?”

“Just an old woman’s intuition,” she says with a laugh before putting her water bottle back into the fridge. “My husband and I were together for a long time, too. It’s a great feeling, being so loved.”

Makoto feels his throat go dry as he listens to her words, and he almost tries to deny what she’s getting at, but Kisumi is quicker to the punch.

“Granny,” he laughs, not showing a hint of the nerves he must be feeling. “What are you saying? Makoto and I aren’t… Like _that_.”

Makoto wonders at what point Kisumi had become such an artful liar. The denial of what they are hurts, just a bit, but he does what he can to not show the pain on his face. If this is what Kisumi wants, then so be it.

“Aren’t like that?” she repeats, her sparse grey brows furrowing. “Oh, I see. Is that so?”

She crosses her arms across her chest and taps her fingers slowly, lips pursed. Then, she nods and takes a step closer to the couple, offering a hand to each of them.

They hesitate before taking her hands in their own, and she smiles up at them, her glassy eyes warm and kind.

“May this old woman still offer some advice to the two of you who aren’t like _that?_ ”

Makoto glances at Kisumi, who stares at her with a wondering gaze. Slowly, he nods, and his grip on her hand tightens just ever so slightly.

Pleased, she begins with a gentle voice. “You’re still young. I think, for you two to have been together for this long already, that you have a wonderful future ahead of you.” She pauses, her lips stretching out into a crooked smile. “Your paths joining together is some kind of fate. Take care of this path that you share. Wherever it takes you, accept it. You’ll be happy, I’m sure.”

She holds their hands for only a few moments more, then lets go and steps away.

“As your elder, I give you my best wishes. That’s all.”

The two are bewildered, and she laughs, then steps out of the kitchen when she hears one of her grandchildren calling to tell her one of her favorite dramas is on.

Kisumi takes the opportunity to lean against the counter with his damp hand pressed to his forehead, and he breathes out a laugh. “What…”

“Yeah…”

“We were found out.”

“Yeah.”

“Makoto.”

“Yeah?”

Kisumi looks to him with a lopsided smile and says, “I don’t think I’m ready to grow old yet.”

Makoto sputters out a short laugh, then brushes his hand against Kisumi’s. Kisumi takes it with trembling fingers, then leans in for a quick kiss and a murmured apology. Makoto accepts it with a nod, and they return to doing dishes, though their short argument from just a few minutes before lingers at the back of his mind. He decides to save it for later.

It’s after they’re done that the two kids latch onto Kisumi again, their small voices filled to the brim with excitement. “Teach us more!”

Kisumi smiles down at them and pats their heads. “I’d love to, but your teacher’s knee is bothering him, so maybe another time?”

Their smiles fall, and the little boy asks, “Do you promise?”

“Of course I do~. I’m a man of my word.”

Makoto watches as they cheer before being ushered off by their father for a bath. Kisumi meets Makoto’s gaze and grins, then says that he’s going to head out to the veranda for a bit. Makoto says he’ll join him, and when they’re outside, Kisumi pulls out a cigarette, ready to light it.

“You shouldn’t do that at someone else’s home,” Makoto sighs, sitting beside him.

“I was told I could,” Kisumi mutters, but he puts it away, just to please Makoto. “But you’re right. I’ll save it.”

“You can’t do that at my parent’s home either, you know.”

“I know, I know.” Saying that, he leans his elbows on his knees and puts his chin in his hand, staring into the dark backyard. His gaze lingers on the basketball hoop. “Those kids could be good players someday.”

Makoto nods, though he isn’t a good judge when it comes to basketball. “I bet they could-- Especially if you’re the one teaching them.”

“You flatter me~.” Kisumi nudges Makoto’s foot with his own, looking at him with a smile. “This family is kind. We should try and stay in contact with such good people.”

Makoto nods. “Mm, I think so too.” He leans back and looks at the sky, humming lowly. “Earlier… I was really surprised.”

“Same here.” Kisumi’s smile wavers a little. “What Granny said was… So kind, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“Really, it’s not something you’d expect from someone her age.”

“That’s right…” Makoto watches Kisumi’s smile begin to fall bit by bit, and he scoots closer, reaching an arm around his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Kisumi says, his lower lip trembling. “I’m really happy, you know? To meet such a wonderful person is also some kind of fate, isn’t it?” He bites down, then wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “You know, though…”

Makoto pulls him closer without a word, letting Kisumi’s face settle into the crook of his neck. “Hm?”

“What Granny said to us…” He pulls in a short, sharp breath, and Makoto feels something wet against his throat. “Her best wishes and everything else… That’s still something even my own parents have yet to say to me. Isn’t that awful? What kind of fate is that?” He laughs bitterly. “We’re talking again and everything, but they still don’t…”

Kisumi doesn’t finish his sentence, as his words begin to slur together. One hand curls into the fabric of Makoto’s shirt, and Makoto rests his cheek atop Kisumi’s head, his hold tightening. He doesn’t have any words of comfort for him-- This is all he can do.

“It makes me wonder,” Kisumi breathes, “what they really think of me. Maybe, to them, I’m still not… I’m still not enough--”

Makoto silences him by pulling him against his chest in an embrace. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, listens to Kisumi’s weakened sobs, and feels tears prick at the corners of his own eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall.

He wishes there was more he could do, but these are things Kisumi never brings up, and Makoto wonders just how much he has bottled up inside.

When they pull away from each other, Makoto cups Kisumi’s cheek and wipes a few stray tears away. Kisumi holds his hand, breathes slowly, and neither hear the approaching footsteps.

“Tachibana, Shigino--” The mother pauses as she takes in the scene, her brows raising when she sees Kisumi’s red-rimmed eyes. Makoto draws his hand back slowly, and she’s quiet, but then she merely smiles and says, “Come inside for the night, won’t you?”

As they get ready for bed, Makoto’s mind is all words and no solutions, but his thoughts lead him to one outcome that he isn’t sure how to reach, but he knows he’ll give his all trying.

No matter what, he tells himself, he wants to give Kisumi the happy ending he’s always deserved.

***

It’s over dinner one night that Kisumi announces the plan he’s apparently been keeping secret for a while.

“I got a job,” he says nonchalantly, stuffing a clump of rice into his mouth, his gaze set on the TV.

Makoto, however, stares at him in disbelief. A job, he repeats to himself. Kisumi has a job-- One that he never even told Makoto about?

Setting his bowl down, Makoto rubs the back of his neck. “You did?”

“Yep.”

“Um… Why?”

“Why?” Kisumi looks at Makoto now, one brow quirked up. He swallows down his bite. “Why not?”

Makoto feels like that’s an obvious enough answer. It’s hardly been over a year since Kisumi hurt himself, so it’s not like he can move around with ease yet-- Even the trip to Iwatobi for Hayato had put his knee under a lot of stress, just because they had to skip a few days with the stretches.

“Your…” Makoto sighs and leans against the table, lips pursed. Kisumi is a smart man, but he tends to also not think things through-- An in the moment type of guy. “Your knee.”

“Oh.” Snorting, Kisumi looks back to the TV. “Is that all?”

“Is that all… It’s kind of a big part of it, Kisumi--”

“Listen, this job won’t put a lot of strain on it, so don’t worry~.”

It isn’t much, but it does make Makoto feel better. “Is that so? Then, what is it?”

“Basketball coach.”

“Ah--” Makoto groans and leans across the table so he can take Kisumi’s chin between his fingers, making him turn his head. Kisumi stares at him with a confused, irritated look, not liking that his dinner and TV time is being interrupted. “Kisumi, that… That’s obviously going to be a lot for--”

Kisumi mimics Makoto’s groan and swats his hand away. “I already told the school that I won’t be able to move around much with the kids--”

“Kids?”

“It’s a high school team.” Kisumi smiles, then takes another bite and speaks through his chewing. “I had been on the market for a job anyways, and one of my friends at the bar I go to told me that the coach at the school he works for just quit. When they found out I had been a professional for a little while, they really wanted me to coach for them.” He swallows. “So now, I’m technically part of the faculty, I guess?”

“You guess?” Makoto doesn’t know what to think, so he settles down and picks his bowl back up. “When do you start?”

“When the new school year begins,” he answers. “So… In a month or so?”

“Ah…” Makoto glances at their wall calendar, thinking he should mark the date. “Um… Is there any reason you decided to do this?”

Kisumi laughs. “You’re full of questions tonight, aren’t you? I just thought having some extra income wouldn’t hurt.”

Really, it would be helpful, but Makoto is far more concerned about Kisumi’s health than he is money. He doesn’t say that, though, because he knows that Kisumi already knows. “We can get by on my paycheck--”

“Rather than get by, I’d like to have some pocket change too, you know~. And isn’t it time we started looking for somewhere new to live? This apartment was fine for when we were still students, but…” He motions to the pile of clothes they have in one corner of the room, and then to the cardboard boxes that are stacked atop each other in another corner. “We’re starting to run out of space.”

Those were things Makoto had been trying to ignore, and he grimaces. “I mean, yes, but--”

“It won’t be for a while, though. We don’t have that kind of money right now, which is exactly _why_ I took this job.”

Kisumi’s sense of responsibility still tends to astound Makoto, but it’s not really that surprising anymore, either. The role of a responsible big brother suits Kisumi-- But Makoto isn’t the little brother in this situation. He’s the boyfriend. He feels that he should at least have _some_ say.

This isn’t something he can speak out against, though, because he knows that Kisumi is right. Pouting, he takes a bite of his dinner. “You could have told me earlier…”

“I didn’t because I knew you’d be against it~.” Kisumi sighs and reaches over, taking Makoto’s hand into his own. “But you get it, right? We’ll be thirty in no time. At that age, we deserve to live in a nice place, don’t we?”

“Yes, but--”

“But I’m not being honest, am I?” Smiling, Kisumi squeezes Makoto’s hand and laces their fingers together. “To tell the truth, I just can’t stay away from basketball. Even with my knee like this… I still want it to be part of my life. So, if you would support me on this, it would make me really happy.”

Makoto stares into Kisumi’s earnest eyes, feels the warmth of his hand, and his heart melts. He understands where Kisumi is coming from. He couldn’t very well tear himself away from swimming, either, so it’s not like he has a right to tell Kisumi he should try to cut basketball off completely.

Besides, Kisumi is amazing-- There’s no doubt that he’ll be able to make some amazing players.

Returning Kisumi’s hold, Makoto smiles at him. “Just be careful, okay?”

Kisumi’s face lights up at his words, and he nods eagerly. “Right!”

It’s the following month that Kisumi begins work at the high school. It’s a train ride away from their nearest station, and when he returns home later that evening, he’s all smiles. Energy radiates from him as he latches onto Makoto, and they share a quick kiss before Kisumi begins to blabber on and on about the day he’s had.

Before long, Kisumi settles down and it becomes routine. There are days he comes home exhausted, saying that the boys just weren’t cooperating, and there are some days he comes home with his limp more prominent, practically begging Makoto for his pain medicine.

Makoto worries himself sick over the idea of Kisumi managing to hurt himself again, but come morning, he’s back to his usual self. He limps to the kitchen, has a cup of coffee that’s more cream and sugar than anything else, and gets ready for the team’s morning practice. Makoto has the privilege of getting to wake up a little later than Kisumi, so when Kisumi leaves, he’s sent off with a very sleepy goodbye kiss and a slurred, _“Have a good day.”_

“Oh my,” Kisumi chirps one Saturday morning, having gotten used to waking early, “is there a swim meet coming up?” He gestures to the calendar with a date circled in red.

“There is,” Makoto answers, pouring himself a cup of coffee as he tries to blink his sleepiness away. “The kids are all working hard.”

Kisumi hums, then smiles to himself. “Is it okay if I go?”

“Huh?” Makoto looks to him with brows raised. “You want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t think you were interested--”

“I’ve never been to one, and it sounds fun.” He goes to pat Makoto’s back, grinning. “I want to see all the hard work you’ve put into those kids~.”

Makoto thinks on it for only a moment before nodding, feeling his heart flutter with excitement at the idea.

When the day arrives, Kisumi watches from the stands, one leg bouncing in anticipation as the whistle goes off and the kids all dive in. Come the end of the race, he’s up and cheering for Makoto’s student, and they both try to block his cries out, but they can’t do much to hide their wildly happy smiles.

It’s after that meet that Kisumi begins to attend more and more, and Makoto returns the favor, sometimes stopping in to watch practice matches for Kisumi’s team. He sits with his eyes glued to the court and watches the players run back and forth with the ball bouncing between them. The squeaking of sneakers takes him back to his day in middle school, but more than that, getting to see Kisumi’s grin when one of his kids scores a point makes him glow with pride.

When those players gather around Kisumi for a short pep talk, Kisumi speaks as if he’s known them for years, and they return the feeling. They’re all relaxed, and when Kisumi has to pull one aside to talk about technique, the player listens with a stern expression, taking Kisumi’s words to heart. In a short amount of time, he’s built up a good deal of respect.

Through that respect and his guidance, his team begins to win more, and Makoto does what he can to attend their games until it gets to the point where he’s recognized by the players.

“It’s Tachibana-san,” he hears one whisper. “He’s always here, huh?”

After that, he decides to not go as much anymore, because a lingering fear of their relationship getting out and Kisumi losing the job he loves so much burdens him. He doesn’t want to be the reason for that, and though Kisumi seems disappointed, he accepts the decision quietly.

So, they keep what they have as private as possible, and take pleasure in the smaller things: shopping for groceries and holding hands on their way home, sharing short kisses under the light of a street lamp when their neighborhood is asleep, and holding each other close as night turns to day.

Makoto can’t believe there was a time where he thought that this wasn’t enough. He’s happy with where he is, and being able to stay by the side of someone so amazing is like a gift to him.

He loves Kisumi, deeply, and he thinks that he always will. Deep down, he holds tight to the idea that there will come a day where they can be open and loving and show the world what they are.

Of course he doesn’t tell Kisumi that. It’s a little more than just embarrassing.

Until that time comes, though, he vows to himself to take the steps that will lead them there. One night after dinner, while Kisumi is washing dishes and Makoto is vaguely watching TV, he lays out a few printed pieces of paper across their table and waits.

Then, Kisumi returns and sits down, groaning a bit as he bends his knee under the table. Makoto frowns. “You could have let me do the dishes--”

“But it was my turn~. No arguing, okay?”

Makoto sighs and leans against the table, then smiles when Kisumi notices the papers strewn out on it. Picking one up, Kisumi skims through it, then knits his brows together.

“An apartment?”

“You said you wanted to think about moving soon, right?”

“I said that months ago…” He smiles and looks at the next paper. “You did some searching online?”

“I was thinking we could go look at these this weekend.”

Kisumi hums, then looks to Makoto. “Are they in our price range?”

“Don’t worry about that~.” Makoto slides one of the papers closer to Kisumi. “I like this one the most. The bedroom and kitchen are separated from the living room-- There’s even a laundry room.”

“We need a laundry room?”

“It’d be easier than letting our clothes hang dry, right?”

“That’s true…” Kisumi reads through the the amenities with a growing smile. “Hardwood floors~. I like that~. Is it close to your work?”

“It’s closer to yours than mine,” Makoto admits, turning his head away when Kisumi narrows his eyes. “It’s fine, isn’t it? It’d be easier on you if it’s nearby.”

“It would be, but--”

“Don’t worry about me,” Makoto tells him. “That’s what you always say, right?”

“Are you making fun of me?”

Kisumi pouts in mock hurt, but his smile wins through as he starts looking at the other available apartments. Despite that, his eyes wander back to the specific piece of paper Makoto had given him, and it’s obvious what’s already won.

“So?”

“So…” Kisumi rubs the back of his neck, then hums. “Let’s check them out before making a real decision--”

“But you have one in mind, right?”

Laughing, Kisumi nods and looks away with a bashful smile. There’s a dash of pink in his cheeks, and Makoto smiles and stands so they can sit closer together. Kisumi immediately leans against him.

“You’re blushing,” Makoto notes, and Kisumi laughs again before he grabs Makoto’s hand.

“It’s because I’m happy.” He closes his eyes and smooths his thumb over Makoto’s skin. “It’s kind of like we’re getting married--”

“Married?”

“Huh?”

“You said married.”

“Oh.” Kisumi flushes and his grip on Makoto’s hand tightens suddenly as embarrassment begins to set in. “Oh, I did, didn’t I? Wow.”

He barks out a forced laugh and looks away from Makoto, looking rather horrified with himself for even suggesting it. While he isn’t looking, Makoto lets his own flustered smile creep its way onto his lips, and in tiny voices, they agree to look around that weekend.

The weekend ends pleasantly. After looking at various nice apartments, both of their minds return to the one they picked out a few nights prior, and when they’re able to get around to checking it out, it’s like something clicks in them both. Within a week, they’re beginning to move in.

“The breeze on the balcony is so nice,” Kisumi comments as he leans against the rail, strands of his hair blowing in the wind. Makoto sets a cardboard box down on the floor, shivering when the breeze comes in through the open door.

“It’s still cold out, though,” he reminds Kisumi, rolling down his sleeves despite all the sweaty work he’s doing. “Can you start opening some of these?”

“You know, I can help carry some stuff up--”

“Kisumi.”

“Fine, fine. You and your knee problems.”

“They’re not _my_ \--”

Kisumi snorts. “I know~. Just give me a minute, okay?”

Makoto nods and turns, heading back to the moving van and grabbing one of the larger boxes. He drags his feet up the stairs, and when he reaches the door, the smell of cigarette smoke drifts past him.

He puts the box down and searches for the source, his heart falling when the trail leads him back to the balcony. Kisumi, now with a cigarette between his lips, jumps when Makoto approaches.

“When did you start?” Makoto asks as Kisumi quickly puts it out.

“Not too long ago,” he says, wearing a sorry smile. “One of the teachers from the school got me started on it-- But I promise it’s not that often.”

Unconvinced, Makoto purses his lips. “Isn’t it gross? Your players would probably be pretty upset--”

“Ahh, come on, I’m an adult~.” Kisumi steps closer to Makoto and squishes his cheeks between his hands. “Smile for me, Makoto~. I’m telling you, it’s not that often, I swear~. And I won’t do it inside, okay?”

Makoto sighs through puckered lips and grabs Kisumi’s wrists, pulling his hands away. “Fine, I understand. Just try to keep it at ‘not that often,’ okay?” Wrapping his arms around Kisumi’s waist, he pulls him closer and gently bumps their foreheads together. “But, you did look kind of cool.”

“Did I?”

“Mmhm.” Smiling, Makoto presses their lips together, then pulls away with his tongue sticking out. “It’s bitter.”

“Aw, sorry~.” Kisumi grins and circles his arms around Makoto’s shoulders, pulling him into another kiss and sighing happily against his lips. “Makoto tastes good, though~.”

“That’s gross~.”

A cough comes from just inside their apartment, making them both jump and look to the very disgruntled Haruka, who holds a large box in his hands. “Yeah. It’s gross.”

“Ah, Haru…” A terrible warmth creeps up Makoto’s neck as he pulls away from Kisumi with a strained laugh. “Sorry. I’ll get back to work.”

“Could it be that Haru feels left out?” Kisumi hums, approaching Haruka and throwing his arms around him. “Don’t be jealous~. We love you too~.”

“I’ll leave--”

“Okay, okay.”

Letting go of Haruka, Kisumi grins deviously, then goes to retrieve some scissors so he can start opening the boxes. Haruka breathes out an exasperated sigh and glares weakly at Makoto, then heads back outside to bring another box up.

When Kisumi kneels down to start cutting tape, Makoto kneels next to him with a smile and steals another kiss before Haruka returns. Kisumi grins against Makoto’s lips, and like that, they return to their hard work.

As night falls, they lie together in a mess of blankets, the heater close to their feet to keep them warm. Kisumi has already fallen asleep, but he shifts here and there when his knee seems to bother him. Makoto watches, then takes the initiative to rub the aching joint when Kisumi’s face twists in pain.

Kisumi rolls onto his side, presses himself up against Makoto, and finally settles down. For a bit, Makoto combs his fingers through Kisumi’s hair, but it isn’t long before he drifts off himself. As his breaths begin to slow down, he thinks to himself, _Ah, I’m so happy._

***

Makoto wakes to find Kisumi already showered and dressed, busy securing his knee brace on his leg. He had worked it too hard the day before, playing with the kids. In a half-awake state of mind, Makoto reaches over and puts his hand on Kisumi’s knee.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Good morning~,” Kisumi replies, ruffling up Makoto’s already messy hair. “Go get in the shower. Our car is waiting for us.”

“Okay.” He sits up and rubs his eyes with a drawn out yawn, then leans over to kiss Kisumi’s cheek, but he’s quick to realize where he is. He pulls back with a bashful smile, then stands. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Take your time. The kids wanted to play more basketball~.”

“Kisumi--”

“Don’t even start.” Kisumi gets up with a grin, then retreats before Makoto can scold him. Makoto watches him go, then heaves out a sigh as he prepares for his shower.

On his way to the bathroom, the mother of the family stops him in the hallway, placing a hand on his arm. “Tachibana-san,” she starts, an uncertain look on her face, “may I ask you something?”

Makoto feels his stomach twist a bit, but he smiles and nods. “Anything.”

“Are you and Shigino-san--” She doesn’t finish her question. Pursing her lips, she shakes her head and draws her hand back from Makoto’s arm. “No… It’s nothing. Sorry for interrupting you.”

She sidles past Makoto in a hurry. He watches after her, a bit relieved that she didn’t take the conversation any further, and he heads for the bathroom.

It’s around an hour later that they get to leave the family’s home. They thank them over and over again for their hospitality, but it doesn’t seem to end there, as the mother hands them each a homemade lunch. Kisumi’s eyes glisten at her kindness, and in his usual friendly way, he gives each of them a hug. Makoto is more reserved, but he’s still very touched.

“Uncle,” the little girl says, pulling on the hem of Kisumi’s shorts. “You’re gonna come back, right? And play with us more?”

Kisumi hums and crouches, plopping a hand on each of the children’s heads. “Should I? That’s probably up to your parents, yeah?”

His hint immediately hits them, and they turn to their parents with wide eyes and loud voices. “Mom! Dad! Phone numbers!”

Suddenly put on the spot by their children’s pleas, the two hurry to get their phones out and exchange contact information with Makoto and Kisumi. Makoto apologizes for Kisumi, but they think nothing of it, saying that it’s nice to have friends in Tokyo.

“If these two ever want to see what city life is like, we’ll be free,” Kisumi tells them, proudly patting the kids on their heads.

They begin their goodbyes again, and Kisumi is adamant on embracing the old woman, their hug lingering for a bit. She rubs Kisumi’s back, and when he pulls away, she holds both of his hands in her own and says, “You’re a fine young man. Take care of each other.”

The mechanic tilts his head at her cryptic words, and he seems even more baffled when Kisumi’s eyes fill with tears again and he whispers, “Thank you.”

“When did they get so close,” Makoto hears him whisper to his wife, and all she does is pat his back with a smile.

Women’s intuition, Makoto thinks. It’s scary.

Then, they’re back on the road to Iwatobi. Kisumi relaxes in the passenger’s seat and breathes out a content sigh, wearing a smile and letting his hand dangle out the window. He closes his eyes for a bit.

“How long until we get there?” Makoto asks, having Kisumi check his phone.

“Around three hours. Will you be okay driving for that long?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” He pulls his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose. “I feel bad we won’t get to spend much time with my family…”

“We’ll fly out next time,” Kisumi laughs as he scrolls through the photos he’s taken over the trip. “This has been fun, though. Let’s just try not to stop on our way back. We have places to be and things to do~.”

“So we’ll take turns driving?”

“Mmhmm.”

They settle on the agreement and then fall silent, wanting to focus more on getting there rather than on each other. Kisumi turns up the radio, then sits back and stares out his window as he hums along to the music. Makoto spares him glances here and there to see if he’s dozed off or not, but for the duration of the drive, Kisumi stays awake.

It isn’t long before the quiet begins to bother Makoto. “You’re wearing your brace today,” he says. “Is it hurting?”

“Not awful. It’s just kind of a precaution. And, if your parents saw me not wearing it…” Kisumi flashes Makoto a toothy grin and reaches over to squeeze his thigh playfully. “Well, let’s just say you take after them, you know?”

“Of course I do,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel so he can hold Kisumi’s. “Wouldn’t your parents be worried too?”

“Uhh… Hayato would probably be the only one to get mad,” Kisumi says, smoothing his thumb over Makoto’s skin. “Mom and Dad kind of have this ‘do whatever you want’ mindset nowadays. It makes my life a little easier.”

He speaks as if he wasn’t crying over their lack of attention just the night before. Makoto tries not to frown, but he thinks Kisumi’s words to be a little lonely, so he laces their fingers together and squeezes. “I’d like to go see them.”

“We can’t. They went on vacation.”

“Oh? So Hayato-kun is staying home alone?”

“That’s right! Isn’t that so grown-up of him?”

It’s normal for a high schooler to be left alone, but he doesn’t mention it. He just smiles and nods. “We should visit him. He wanted us to, right?”

“Of course~. We’ll bother him for a bit~.”

“He probably won’t think it’s a bother,” Makoto laughs. “He’s still going to spend his summer vacation with us, isn’t he?”

Kisumi shrugs. “I’d like for him to, but he still has club activities to do… Though I keep telling him that a week wouldn’t hurt.”

“Let’s try to convince him when we get there.”

“Okay~.” Kisumi lets go of Makoto’s hand and returns to scrolling through his phone, wearing a smile. “Both hands on the wheel.”

“Right, right.”

The remainder of their drive is mostly spent in silence, save for when Kisumi laughs at some text he received. Makoto smiles to himself each time, enjoying the pleasant sound.

They arrive in Iwatobi a little after noon, and Kisumi is quick to call up Makoto’s parents, asking if there’s anything they need picked up while they’re on their way over. He nods as he listens to the groceries needed, and after hanging up, he makes a note of it in his phone.

“We just need some ingredients for tonight’s dinner,” he tells Makoto, and they make a detour to the grocery store.

It doesn’t take them long to get what they need, but they’re stopped on their way out when a friend of Makoto’s mother recognizes him, and she’s able to keep them for ten minutes with stories of her own son that Makoto, regrettably, doesn’t even remember. Kisumi stands off to the side, listening in silence.

“He’s getting married, you know-- If your mother didn’t tell you yet.”

Makoto doesn’t see Kisumi flinch at the information. “Is that right? That’s great!” Makoto congratulates her, and that’s when they’re able to finally part ways.

Returning to Kisumi, Makoto sighs wearily, and Kisumi smiles at him. “Popular.”

“No, my parents are,” Makoto corrects. “They’ve always been… Outgoing.”

“But everyone likes _Makoto-kun_ too, right?”

“Don’t make fun of me~.”

Opening the door to the back seats, Makoto sets the grocery sacks inside, then notices the two neatly wrapped lunches sitting in the floorboard. He pulls them out with a smile and turns to Kisumi.

“Hungry?”

“Oh!” Taking one from Makoto, Kisumi beams. “We shouldn’t let them go to waste. Let’s eat before we head to your place.”

“We could stop by a park--”

“Let’s go to the ocean~.”

Makoto tilts his head. “The ocean? Why there?”

“Because it’s been a while since we last went, hasn’t it? I’d like to dip my feet in.”

Kisumi is already climbing back into the car, so Makoto follows suit, and they take the short drive to the sandy banks near Makoto’s home. After parking, Kisumi is the first one to head down to the water, leaving his lunch some feet away from where the tide ends. Makoto is quick to pick it up, not wanting it to get washed away.

Kicking off his shoes, Kisumi wades into the water until it reaches his mid-calves. A gentle breeze blows over the beach, and he smiles to himself, then shivers before returning to where Makoto stands waiting for him.

“It was cold,” he says.

“I bet,” Makoto laughs, handing Kisumi his lunch before sitting down on the sand. “Let’s hurry so we don’t keep them waiting.”

“I’d like to enjoy the view a bit,” Kisumi murmurs as he sits with Makoto. He starts to eat, speaking through his chewing. “Let’s come here tomorrow with everyone.”

“If they want to.”

“I’m sure I can convince them!” Kisumi pulls his knees up to his chest and stares out over the ocean, then takes another bite. “Hmm…”

He eats slowly, and the look on his face tells Makoto that there’s something on his mind. Not saying anything, Makoto watches him for a moment, then turns his gaze on the ocean as well. He’s sure that Kisumi will speak when he wants to-- And if he doesn’t, that’s fine too.

Kisumi is the first to finish his lunch. He sets the box aside, rests his chin on his knees, and still doesn’t say a word. It’s like that for a few minutes, the sounds of the waves and seagulls flying overhead keeping them company.

It isn’t a comfortable silence, though, because Makoto knows there’s something that Kisumi wants to say. He just isn’t sure how to coax it out of him.

As he’s about to speak, Kisumi interrupts. “The ocean sure is big, huh?”

“Oh?” He blinks, looks out to the water, then back to Kisumi. “Yeah.”

“It’s kind of scary.” Kisumi stands up and heads to where the water meets the sand, letting it wash at his ankles. “Really scary.”

“Are you afraid of the ocean?” Makoto asks, setting his lunch aside so he can focus on Kisumi instead. “You never told me.”

“I’m not,” Kisumi laughs, putting his hands in his pockets as he lightly kicks at the waves. “No, it’s not that-- It’s more like…” He hums and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I think it’s just… How many other people lie beyond it.”

“Ah…” Makoto nods, because he kind of understands what Kisumi is saying, but it’s still a little vague. He’s more surprised than anything. “So how many people there are in the world? You think about those kinds of things too, huh.”

“Sometimes.” Smiling to himself, Kisumi tilts his head back and breathes in when a breeze blows by and ruffles his hair. “I try not to. Like I said, it’s scary.”

Makoto nods again. “What’s scary about it to you?”

“What’s scary?” Kisumi thinks on his answer for a bit, then shrugs. “Maybe it’s that… If we had been born where those millions of other people had been born, our lives would have been so different. The paths we would have followed would have been… So different.”

His words take Makoto back to the day before, when Kisumi brought up where they were in life now, and how he asked if Makoto regretted it. Pursing his lips, Makoto starts to stand, but pauses when Kisumi begins to speak again.

“It’s actually kind of sad,” he continues, his smile gone and replaced with a distant look. “That we only have one life in this world, I mean. There’s so many things we want to do, so many choices we can make, but in the end, it’s impossible to do everything. And sometimes, we leave with regrets, right? That’s sad.”

Makoto stares at Kisumi’s back, thinking that these are thoughts he’s never heard before. He isn’t sure what to say-- Mostly, he’s worried, but captivated all the same. He wants to listen to more of what Kisumi has to say, but Kisumi falls silent, his gaze locked on the rippling waves far out over the horizon.

Quietly, Makoto removes his shoes, then goes to stand by Kisumi’s side. He shivers when the water laps at his ankles, but he quickly adjusts to the chill. He doesn’t say anything at first, not sure if he should, but when Kisumi says nothing, he begins softly.

“What about you?” he asks, getting Kisumi’s attention. “Do you have regrets?”

“Of course I do,” Kisumi answers easily. “I regret a lot of things, actually. Like the time I gave Asahi my favorite lunch in middle school because he had forgotten his own, or the times I fell asleep without studying, even though there was a test the next day.”

Makoto furrows his brows, and Kisumi must notice, because he laughs and shrugs.

“Well, among other things… I also regret coming out to my parents that first time. If I hadn’t, I could have seen Hayato grow up in those years we were apart. I regret not treating my knee better. And… I regret letting you go that first time, too.”

Makoto doesn’t mention that he regrets that the whole situation ever happened in the first place. He just looks away, frowning. “So you’re unhappy?”

“Unhappy?” Kisumi repeats, looking to Makoto with both brows raised. “What-- No, I’m not unhappy. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I’m…” He pauses. “I mean, this one life I have is… Still young. And that I’m getting to spend a majority of it with you makes me think that I’m the luckiest person alive. To have been born when and where I was, and to have gone through what I’ve gone through.”

“Kisumi--”

“That sounds weird, right?” Kisumi laughs and bumps his shoulder against Makoto’s. “What about you? You have plenty of regrets, right? Lots of things you’re unhappy with.”

Makoto thinks that Kisumi isn’t really asking him a question, but more stating a fact, and it makes his heart twinge with pain. “You asked me this yesterday.”

“I did.” Kisumi smiles at him. “Because, like I said-- Sometimes you have this sad look on your face, and…” He trails off and his smile begins to waver. He looks away from Makoto and drags a hand through his hair. “And, it’s like… I wonder why this is the path you chose, when there are so many other ways your life could have gone.”

“Kisumi…” Turning to him, Makoto puts a hand on his shoulder, though Kisumi doesn’t look his way. “Yesterday, this was about my career, but that… This doesn’t sound like you’re talking about that anymore.”

Kisumi’s smile is gone now, and he refuses to make eye contact. The fact that he doesn’t immediately speak tells Makoto that he’s right.

“I’m sorry,” Kisumi finally says, laughing to himself. “I’m saying weird things, aren’t I? It’s just… It’s because of me that you went off the path that was meant for you.”

His voice is hardly even a whisper, so Makoto leans in closer, his heart pounding. “Path? I don’t understand what you’re talking about--”

“The respectable life that someone out there surely designed for you,” Kisumi interrupts, finally looking at Makoto. “I don’t get it-- Why choose _me_ over that?”

“Respectable life?”

Makoto doesn’t understand what Kisumi is going on about anymore, but he’s obviously upset about whatever this all means. Makoto tries to make sense of it, but to no avail. So, instead, he holds Kisumi by both shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “I don’t really get it.”

Kisumi purses his lips, then looks to his feet. “Right. I’m sorry. It was a long time ago, so just forget I’ve said this.”

“A long time ago?” His brows knit together. “Did I… Say something?”

“You did.” Kisumi’s eyes crinkle up as if he’s close to tears, but he doesn’t dare let any fall. “I still don’t get why you’d--” He sighs and pulls away from Makoto, putting his hands on his hips. “Ah, geez, I want to smoke, but I’ve already smoked twice this week, and it’d be bad if I did more-- Makoto, you’re the worst.”

Makoto barely listens to Kisumi’s complaints, instead searching his memories for that respectable life he had apparently talked about. There’s no telling how long ago it was-- But for Kisumi to still be hung up over it, it must have been something awful to hear.

Knowing that he’s the cause of this unease is even worse. He steps forward and grabs Kisumi’s hand, thankful that Kisumi doesn’t try to pull away again. Neither of them speak-- Makoto can’t find the right words, so he just stares helplessly at Kisumi, hoping that some sort of an answer will come.

There’s a blatant hesitation, but Kisumi finally gives. “When you broke up with me,” he says. “That night.”

“That night?” It was so many years ago now. Letting go of Kisumi, Makoto lets his hands hang at his sides, fuzzy memories becoming crystal clear.

His stomach twists. A respectable life. A normal family. Those really were things he had said, and regret hits him like a tidal wave. How awful, he thinks.

“You said that to me,” Kisumi continues, as if he’s rubbing salt into a reopened wound-- Not Makoto’s, but his own. “And I don’t blame you for saying it.” Except he obviously does. “You were so upset. It’s like… I really don’t know what makes me the reason you abandoned any hope for that kind of life. Which is why I said, I lead you off the path you were meant for--”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“It was so long ago. I’ve tried to forget it, but it’s hard. Really hard. My life as it is right now… I’m so happy, but sometimes I think that I’m the only one who is-- Like I’m being selfish. Or unfair.”

“Kisumi--”

“And sometimes, you look so sad-- I don’t always know the reason. Maybe it was a bad day at work, but somehow, my mind always tells me that _I’m_ the reason you’re upset. Because I’ve taken you away from something you deserved.”

He speaks with hurried, frantic words, not looking at Makoto anymore.

“And, I’ve seen how sad you are when we can’t tell people what we really are. And I’ve seen the way you look at kids, and how good you are with them, and how you have to put on this fake smile when congratulating someone else about their marriage.”

Makoto listens with a dry throat, desperately wanting to reach out and silence Kisumi, but his body refuses to move.

“But I don’t even know if that’s right. You prove to me over and over again that you love me, but do you really? Am I just imagining it? I mean, we have to face the truth here. If I had never hurt myself, if my knee wasn’t like this, we would have never met again. Is it because you pity me that you’re by my side right now? If that’s it, I don’t want that for you. That’s the last thing I want, because I really love you. If you were to end up with anyone but me, that’d be--”

His breath hitches as he struggles to speak the last words.

“That’d be so awful.”

Makoto’s heart skips a beat, and he steps closer with trembling knees. “Kisumi--”

“That’d really be so awful. I’m sorry.” Kisumi hides his face in his hands. He isn’t crying, not yet, but his voice cracks. “I’m sorry for selfishly keeping you here. I’m sorry for not wanting to let you go. I’m really…”

He trails off and they fall into a deafening silence that neither are able to break. Makoto can’t form words, and his hands hang uselessly as he takes in every distraught word that Kisumi has spoken to him.

And he starts to wonder if maybe Kisumi is right. Perhaps pity has always been the reason-- It’s been the reason for a lot of the regrets in his life, he knows that much.

Looking at Kisumi now, who stands trembling before him with tears threatening to fall, he feels pity for him and hate for himself. He looks to his feet and balls his hands into fists, unable to refute everything that has been said, because he isn’t sure if he can.

Finally, Kisumi breathes out a few simple words. “I want you to take me to my home.”

Makoto’s head snaps up. “What?”

“I think… I just want to spend time with Hayato. For the night, at least. I’ll see your parents tomorrow, if you want me to.”

“But--”

“Please just drive me there.”

There’s a frustration that Makoto can’t put into words, so all he does is nod and begin to head for the car, picking up his shoes on the way. Kisumi trails behind him, and the drive over is silent.

As Kisumi steps out of the car, he looks to Makoto with a weak smile and apologizes again, then says, “Those regrets we were talking about… I don’t want to have anymore, so let’s just think for a while.”

Makoto purses his lips. “Yeah… Okay.”

They don’t share a goodbye kiss. Makoto drives off before Kisumi is even inside the home, and when he arrives at his parent’s, they’re surprised to find him alone and looking frail.

“Where’s Kisumi-kun?” his mother asks worriedly, ushering him inside so she can make him something to drink.

“He wanted to visit with his brother for a bit,” Makoto tells her, sitting at their dining table. “He’ll come see you soon.”

She nods, though she wears a frown. “I understand, but I wanted to see him sooner. There was something we needed to talk about.”

Makoto perks up a bit at that. “Oh? What was it?”

“A secret~.”

He deflates again, not really liking the sound of that.

When he meets with Ran and Ren, he’s smothered in hugs, but still asked the same questions of Kisumi’s whereabouts. He tells them what he told his mother, and they accept his explanation, then sit him down in the living room so they can tell him all about where their university lives had led them.

When they sit down for dinner later that evening, Makoto stays silent as he listens to stories exchanged between his family, and his heart feels warmer than it has the entire day.

Then he thinks back to Kisumi, and he stops listening to whatever they’re talking about now. His smile falls into a frown, and he pushes around a few grains of rice, never actually eating them. It’s only when he hears a dreamy sigh leave Ren that he looks up at his little brother.

“It’s just, I really feel like she’s the one…”

Makoto blinks, not sure what he’s talking about, but then Ran speaks up. “How can you say that when you’ve barely been dating for four months?”

“You don’t understand,” Ren counters with a huff. “You’ve only ever dated _once_.”

“I already told you, I’m married to swimming--”

Makoto smiles at the two of them.

“I just know, really! She’s funny and smart and pretty and everything I could ever want!”

Ran sighs and puts a bite of food in her mouth. “I don’t get it…”

Ren purses his lips, then looks to Makoto. “Onii-chan,” he starts seriously, “when did you know Kisumi was the one?”

“Huh? The one?”

All eyes are on him now, and he feels flustered, so he tears his gaze away and swallows with a dry throat.

“Um, well…” He isn’t sure where to start, if there even _is_ a place to start. “To… To be honest, I don’t think I ever really… Thought about it?”

Ren frowns. “Seriously? Kisumi would be upset if he heard that.”

“You do think he’s the one, right?” Ran asks, staring at Makoto with wide eyes.

Heart jumping, Makoto nods. “Of course I do-- I just… I don’t know when I realized it.”

He looks at his plate and knits his brows together, thinking back through all the years, and really… There was no specific point, no sudden realization. He wonders if that’s okay.

“But,” he continues, folding his hands in his lap, “ever since we were young, I always thought he was amazing. He’s even more amazing now-- He’s kind, and he carries a lot of troubles on his shoulders, but he always smiles and he’s strong. And when he smiles, I think he’s beautiful--”

He’s interrupted by a few soft giggles from around him, and he looks up at the smiling faces of his family.

“Onii-chan,” Ran hums, wiggling her chopsticks at him, “you’ve got it _really_ bad.”

“Huh?”

“Worse than me,” Ren adds with a grin. “Onii-chan, you really love Kisumi, huh?”

Makoto tilts his head, then feels a warmth begin to creep up his neck as he realizes he had been rambling. He smiles to himself and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck with a weary laugh, and he’s actually glad that Kisumi wasn’t there to hear all that.

Still, he can’t stop himself from saying, “Yeah, I do. I really, really love him.”

Faults and worries and fears and all. He thinks that, then stands up, earning a few confused looks from his family.

“Sorry,” he says. “I, uh… I want to go see Kisumi. I’ll be back soon, so--”

He meets his mother’s gaze, who smiles at him, then waves him off. “Go ahead. You get to do dishes when you’re back.”

“Yeah, got it.”

He’s off right after that, fishing his car keys from his jacket pocket and heading to where he parked the rental car. He climbs in, then pauses, wondering if this is okay, if Kisumi will want to see him.

Then he thinks, even if that’s not the case, that it won’t matter. He wants to see Kisumi, and even if he can’t dispel every worry Kisumi has, he’ll do what he can.

Hayato is the one to answer the door, and his eyes are wide with shock when he sees Makoto standing there, but it’s only a moment later before he breaks out into a wide grin and latches onto his former coach.

“Coach-- Makoto!” He’s quick to correct himself, and Makoto thinks that Kisumi must have told him to. “It’s been a long time!”

“It has,” Makoto says, smiling as he returns the hug. “You’ve gotten bigger since last year, Hayato-kun. You’ll be taller than Kisumi in no time.”

Hayato laughs and pulls away, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “No, I don’t think so… Kisumi-onii-chan is still a few inches taller.” He ushers Makoto into the home. “Why are you here?”

“Ah… I just wanted to talk to Kisumi for a bit is all.”

“Oh? Well, he’s in his bedroom-- Do you know where that is?”

Makoto shakes his head, then follows the directions to the room on the upper floor. He doesn’t visit the Shigino home very much, and it only takes a minute for him to realize that he’s never even seen Kisumi’s old room.

He hesitates before knocking, then draws in a long, deep breath and raises his knuckles to the door. He raps a few times, and within moments, Kisumi is opening the door, wearing an expression very similar to Hayato’s.

“Makoto?”

“Uh… Hey…”

He shouldn’t have to feel awkward around someone he’s been with for so long, but his heart is pounding, and Kisumi’s long stare is no help. Makoto smiles weakly.

“Can we talk?”

“Talk?”

“Mm. Talk.”

Kisumi looks unsure. Crossing his arms across his chest, he glances away and worries his bottom lip, then breathes out a sigh and says, “Yeah, sure. Let’s go outside.”

They breeze past Hayato, who gives them a confused look, and head for Kisumi’s front yard. It’s dark, barely any lights on in the neighborhood, and Kisumi hugs himself a little bit to combat the slight chill in the air. He doesn’t look at Makoto, instead focusing on the dark street just past the fence.

Both are quiet, the sounds of insects filling the void. Makoto fidgets where he stands, wondering if he should start.

“So,” he murmurs, “my family is well.”

Kisumi hums and looks to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll be seeing them tomorrow--”

“And then you can act like none of today happened, right?”

Kisumi’s eyes widen at Makoto’s statement, one that simply slipped out unfiltered. Makoto stammers and feels a light sweat cover his body. He looks to his feet.

“Sorry, I--”

“Is that all you wanted to say?” Kisumi interrupts, brows knitted together.

Silently, Makoto shakes his head with pursed lips, then lifts his head so he can meet Kisumi’s gaze. “I’ve been thinking, like you wanted me to.”

What he says seems to make Kisumi’s wall break down a bit, because his frustration begins to dissolve into concern instead.

“Is that so?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, that’s…” Makoto trails off, then breathes in and bows his head. “I’m sorry. All of this is really my fault.”

“Wait, no--” Kisumi tries to cut in, his tone frantic. He takes a few steps towards Makoto, one hand latching onto his arm. “No, I’m sorry. Please don’t say that-- I was just overreacting. You know how I get sometimes. It doesn’t even matter, okay? Tomorrow I’ll be better, so-- It’s really not your fault--”

“It is,” Makoto says, looking to Kisumi. “It is my fault. It’s because I didn’t realize-- I didn’t know that you were hurting all this time, and I should have realized, but I was comfortable thinking that everything was okay now. I never really _fixed_ anything--”

“There’s nothing that needs fixing--”

“But… It’s my fault, but it’s not just _my_ fault.” Makoto takes a step towards Kisumi, taking the hand from his arm and holding it, firm but gentle. “Kisumi, you can’t… You can’t keep running from everything.”

Staring at him, Kisumi tries to speak, but no words come out. He looks dumbfounded.

“What I mean is… I’m… I can’t read your mind, is what I’m saying. Even if we’ve been together this long, I can’t tell what you’re thinking, and if you… If you keep trying to hide what you’re feeling instead of telling me, then how long can we really last?”

“Makoto--”

With an ache in his throat, Makoto holds Kisumi’s hand tighter. “I know that you’re sad. About a lot of things. Basketball, and me, and your knee, and your family… And I know that you don’t want me to know, and I know that’s why you always try to smile and act like everything is okay, but you can’t keep _doing_ that. You do that, and you make me think that everything really is okay, and it makes me into an idiot.”

“But--”

“I’m sorry for not pushing you harder,” Makoto murmurs, his eyes stinging. “I’ve always wanted to become someone you can tell everything to, but if I can’t even be that, then how…”

He takes hold of Kisumi’s other hand, trembling a bit as he bites back tears.

“Then how am I supposed to spend the rest of my life with you?”

He falls silent after his question, his heart racing as he leans against Kisumi for some kind of support. Kisumi doesn’t speak, but Makoto can hear his breath hitch.

Then, he lets go of Kisumi’s hands and pulls him into a warm, tight embrace, burying his face into Kisumi’s shoulder as he sighs.

“You know what? Ren asked me when I knew you were the one, and I realized something-- I really don’t know. I don’t know how or why or when I fell in love with you, but I did, and I want you to know that. All that stuff about paths and the gods… I don’t know if any of that is true, if there’s actually someone out there who created a path for me, and if I’ve wandered from it...”

He pulls back from Kisumi and grabs him by the shoulders, his heart swelling when he notices the tears that rim Kisumi’s eyes.

“And… There are a lot of things I regret, but you’re not… You’re not one of them. I’m sorry for making you think that you were… And thank you for telling me. If you had kept quiet about it, I… We wouldn’t be right here saying all of this. Which is why I _need_ you to tell me. I want to know when you’re sad or angry or anything.”

Kisumi lowers his gaze and lifts his hand to wipes at his eyes. “Makoto, you--”

“I’ve chosen this path. I’m happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. And I meant what I said, about spending the rest of my life with you. That’s what… I want…”

A warmth begins to creep up his neck as he continues.

“Like, what I mean is… Um, m-married-- Uh, like… I mean, we can’t get married, that’s… We can someday, but right now it’s a little hard-- Really hard, but, uh…”

His entire body shakes, and the grip he has on Kisumi is so tight now that his knuckles have turned white.

“What I mean is… Husbands. _Your_ husband. I, uh… I don’t have a ring--”

“I do.”

“Huh?”

Makoto’s head snaps up just in time to see Kisumi’s stunned expression turn into something more mortified. Makoto leans in closer.

“You… You do what?”

Kisumi swallows, his face a brilliant red as he stammers out, “I- I do. I have… A ring. For you.”

“For me?”

“Oh, gosh…” Kisumi pulls back and covers his face, kneeling down as he whimpers pathetically. “Oh geez, this is so bad. This is _so bad_.”

“No, wait, I don’t understand. Kisumi--”

“I bought it for you last year.”

“ _Last year?!_ ” Makoto kneels down with him and grabs his shoulders again, giving him a shake. “You bought it last year?! For me?!”

“Yes, for you! And I really was going to give it to you, but do you know how many times I second guessed myself? Even your mom encouraged me but you still beat me to it! That’s… This is the worst, Makoto!”

Dazed, Makoto laughs, mostly out of nerves and the absurdity of this situation. “My mom?!”

Kisumi nods, still hiding his face in his hands. When he looks at Makoto, tears are already streaming down his face. “You know what’s even worse? I’m really happy! I’m supposed to be mad at you right now!”

Makoto takes Kisumi’s face into his hands and smiles. “You’re not mad anymore?”

“I’m… I’m not.”

“Do you have the ring with you?”

Kisumi’s lower lip trembles and he nods. “Yes…”

“Can I have it?”

They’re both still, but then Kisumi falls from his crouching position and sits in the grass, digging deep in his pocket before pulling out a simple gold band. Makoto stares at it with a tight chest, and he smiles again, having to blink away the tears that blur his vision.

“You kept it in your pocket?”

“It’s good to play with when I’m upset. Now shut up and give me your hand.”

Makoto obediently does as he’s told. Kisumi stares at his hand intensely, worrying the ring between his fingers.

“Kisumi?”

“I’m concentrating. If this is the wrong size, I’ll seriously die.”

“Don’t do that.”

Kisumi draws in a long breath, then begins to slip the ring onto Makoto’s finger. Makoto watches with a widening grin, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when it’s a perfect fit.

“Thank goodness,” Kisumi whimpers, falling back in the grass as if he’s exhausted.

“Yeah.” Makoto lays next to him, admiring the ring. “It’s really nice.”

“It’s just a gold band,” Kisumi mutters, but Makoto can see that he’s smiling too.

They’re quiet for a bit, staring at the dark night sky above them, thinking of everything that has just happened. Makoto is out of words to say; he’s spoken his entire mind. All he wants is for Kisumi to do the same.

“Makoto,” Kisumi whispers after a few minutes pass.

“Hm?”

“You really mean it? That you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”

Makoto nods. “Yes.”

“Even if I’m like this?”

“Yes.”

Kisumi breathes in, then reaches for Makoto’s hand and laces their fingers together. “I’ll probably keep running away.”

“I figured.” Makoto rolls onto his side and smiles softly at Kisumi. “That’s why I’ll chase after you. I’m not letting you go again.”

Kisumi stares at him with glistening eyes and tear stained cheeks, but then he smiles too. “That first time you broke up with me, I seriously wanted to punch you.”

Makoto laughs and rubs a thumb over Kisumi’s skin. “Yeah? You should have.”

“I’m against violence.”

Humming, Makoto sits up and lifts Kisumi’s palm to his lips. “Kisumi,” he murmurs, “I love you.”

Kisumi’s cheeks bloom into a beautiful red color, and he gives Makoto the toothy grin that Makoto has loved since the first day he saw it. “That’s gross, but me too.”

He says that, then reaches up and wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck, pulling him down so he can plant a firm kiss against Makoto’s lips, and Makoto returns it with fingers threading into Kisumi’s hair.

They stay like that until they hear the front door open, Hayato calling for them as quietly as he can. They don’t respond and wait for the door to close, and then Kisumi starts to get up, wearing a bashful smile as he helps Makoto up as well.

“We should head inside.”

“Yeah.”

Makoto holds onto Kisumi’s hand. They stand still, and Kisumi tilts his head.

“Makoto?”

“I’m happy,” Makoto says, as if to reaffirm everything he said said earlier. “I’m really happy.”

Kisumi smiles, then begins to pull Makoto along. They make their way inside, greeted by a light scolding from Hayato. They both give him a weak apology, then begin to head back to Kisumi’s room. They don’t let go of each other for a single instance.

Once they’re alone again, Makoto stares at the hand in his, the one he plans to hold for as long as his life allows him, and a single thought slips out.

“Silver,” he says softly. “Silver would look good on you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for taking the time to read this monster of a oneshot! I'm so very glad that you did! I love melodrama.  
> I've been working on this since around February, and I didn't anticipate just how long it would end up being. Overall, I'm satisfied with what I've made, so I hope you are too!  
> A big, big, big thank you to Sarah, who stuck with me and supported me and helped me edit while I was dying over writing this. I love you so much!


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